


Catch a Break If You Can

by Efstitt



Series: Catch as Catch Can [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bad language again, Drinking, F/M, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, I should mention Jack and Katherine are both 18, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Laid up with broke bones, Past Abuse, Whump, criminal activity, don’t try this at home kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efstitt/pseuds/Efstitt
Summary: Jack launches into adulthood at 18, still in high school. Things are bad. Please please comment!
Relationships: Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber
Series: Catch as Catch Can [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585561
Comments: 132
Kudos: 32





	1. Appendectomies Stink

Jack gulped, grabbing the rail on the staircase. He knew he looked like crap. Turning eighteen was a bitch, that was for sure. Only Jack Kelly would have an emergency appendectomy the day after he turned eighteen. His foster family hadn’t wanted to deal with that, and no one said they had to. He was an adult as of two days ago. Living with three roommates, or at least that had been the plan.

“Can you make it, Jack?” Katherine asked anxiously. “The guest room is upstairs, but once you’re there you can just stay there.”

Jack nodded, looking up the staircase. He could do this. Did he have a choice? Well, yes, but this one had sounded so good in the hospital. He took a breath, exhaled, and pulled himself up as hard as he dared. Just do it, Kelly. That staircase ain’t getting any shorter. Katherine walked up with him, which was nice, but it’s not like she could stop him if he fell. He paused to catch his breath. Kelly. Go. He started to sweat. Three more. He stopped at the top of the staircase, praising the powers that be that he had made it. Since when did appendectomies cause so much pain. 

“Just down the hall, here,” Katherine said encouragingly. “Not too much more.”

Shit. More walking. Jack nodded, trying to smile and not look ungrateful. He staggered down the hall, following Katherine as she carried his small duffel bag into the guest room. Which was larger than any apartment he had ever lived in. But whatever. He made a beeline for the bed in slow motion, bracing himself with his arms before turning over and lying on his back. Glory. Hallelujah.

“Are you okay? Are you hungry?” Katherine asked.

Jack turned his head. “I’m fine. Thanks, though. Can I just lie here for a minute?” he asked. He didn’t want to sound mean. He was just so incredibly tired. Holy fuck. 

“Of course.” She plopped down on the other side of the bed, jostling him so that he gasped in pain, gripping the blankets and squeezing his eyes. 

“Kath, please. Don’t. God. Please sit... somewhere else.” His face contorted, trying to stay normal.

She leapt up, bouncing the mattress once again. “I am so sorry! Yes, of course, I’ll sit over here.”

Jack gritted his teeth as the mattress settled for the second time. Sonofa. Hmmmm. The white hot pain in his gut gradually subsided. He opened his eyes and looked blearily across the room. “Kath, your dad... why...”

“Because I asked him to,” she said, batting her eyes. “If he wants you to work for him, it’s in his best interest that you get well as quickly as possible, isn’t it?”

Jack smiled tiredly and shook his head a little. “I could’ve gone to my apartment, you know.”

“Your apartment,” she scoffed, smiling back. “Your apartment where you get the couch, maybe, on a good night, that one? Or the one that doesn’t have more than a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard? Or the one with people coming and going at all hours of the day and night? Or the one where you would get your incisions infected within minutes?”

“The one where I don’t end up owing your father anything. That one,” he replied, his eyes already closed. Gosh, this bed was soft. He felt Katherine pull a blanket over him, so thick, so warm. And that was the last he remembered for a while.

Jack awoke several hours later to a dim room. The flowery bedspread tipped him off that he was not at home. In his apartment. Was that his home? He wasn’t quite sure. He’d been there all of six hours when he started to feel sick and ended up the emergency room vomiting all over the place. He hadn’t even unpacked his bag, although he wasn’t entirely sure where he would unpack it anyway. Katherine’s house, yes. Okay.

“Jack,” he heard Kath whisper. “Jack, are you awake?” He turned his head to the doorway and saw her slowly opening the door. “Can my dad come in?”

Fuck. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, still foggy from sleep. He looked down. Nice. Still dressed in the clothes he’d been in for days. Dirty clothes on this beautiful bed. He saw the holes in his socks. Where were his boots? Well, not on the bed anymore. On the floor? Yes. He hadn’t taken them off himself, that was for sure. He could barely pull himself up to sit as Pulitzer entered the room. “Mr. Pulitzer, um, hi. Thank you for letting me, uh, come here. Thank you. I, um, I’m real sorry to be such a pain.” He pulled himself back, trying to stay focused on Pulitzer. “I owe you.” Oh, how he did not want to owe Pulitzer. He’d wanted so much to impress him, working for him until he’d finished high school, earning his respect. And being able to pay his rent, too, which would be great. Those guys needed his money, and they were bigger than he was. And older. He hoped they didn’t rent out his couch to someone else over the next few days. 

Pulitzer raised his eyebrows. “Did you rest?”

“Yes, sir, thank you, I did.” Jack wondered why he asked that. If he was rested, should he leave? Katherine had said he could stay for a few days, until he could lift again and be ready to work. Maybe her dad said a few hours. He bet so. It was just as well. He should get back and claim his couch. He moved to the edge of the bed, slowly. He blew out his cheeks and exhaled as he felt for his boots with his feet.

“Jack, where are you going?” Katherine asked. “You have to get more rest!”

“I’m rested,” said Jack. “I’m good. I should get going.” He pulled one boot over and tried to get it on without bending over. Well. Not a successful plan. He reached for the other boot with his foot.

“Jack, you can stay,” said Katherine. “Dad just asked if you were rested in case you wanted something to eat, didn’t you, Daddy.” Oh. Did Pulitzer know that? Jack looked at Pulitzer, who looked none too happy at Kath’s interpretation of his question. “I’ll bring you some food. Stay right there.” Kath disappeared down the hall, leaving Jack with Pulitzer.

“I’ll make it up to you, Mr. Pulitzer, I promise. I know you want it all done soon. I’ll get out there as soon as I can. Thanks for hiring me to help.” He was babbling. “I’ll pay you back for putting me up, too.” Dammit his gut hurt. He wanted to lie back down so bad, but he didn’t dare. How would he ever work construction on their new guest house this week.

“You’re fired, Kelly.” Pulitzer gazed at him. “I need that work done this week. I’ll find someone else. I should add that I don’t like it that you’re taking advantage of Katherine’s generosity. You said you had found a place. Running here at the first opportunity is not a good look for someone who wants to show me he can be independent.”

Jack clenched and released his jaw. “Yes, sir.” Fired. Fucking hell. He hadn’t even started. How would he find a new job looking like this. Those guys wanted their rent, he thought again. Independent? He’d been independent since he was seven years old. He rolled his shoulder and looked up at Pulitzer. “I’ll be on my way, then.” He somehow got his feet into his boots and stood up. He’d get his bag from Kath later. No way he could carry it now. He waited until his head caught up with his body and moved toward the door. Pulitzer got out of his way.

Jack slowly went down the stairs and back out the door. He had no idea which way to go, but he’d figure that out once he was out of sight, he thought. He settled into the least painful way to walk and stumbled down the street. He looked like he was drunk, he thought to himself. He’d love to be drunk right now, for that matter. He pulled at his sweatshirt, glad it wasn’t colder than it was, although it was getting dark. Finally he stopped and got his bearings. A long, long way from “home,” that’s for sure. He had to rest, though. Just for a little bit. He saw a restaurant up ahead with a bench outside. Perfect. He gently lowered himself and sat, leaning as far back as he could, taking shallow breaths to keep from moving his gut too much. 

Up, Kelly. Let’s go. Three blocks to his foster home. His latest one, anyway. So much longer to his apartment. His, right. After an eternity he made it to the door. He unlocked it and went in. Someone was on the couch. Two someones, and they were occupied. Jack went to the kitchen table and sat down slowly. He put his head down on his arms. A tv was blaring. He didn’t hear the footsteps and snapped awake when his head was bounced off the table.

“Where you been, kid? We thought you was renting from us,” a harsh voice said.

“I got an appendectomy the other night, Oscar,” Jack said, trying to turn to find the face talking to him. He couldn’t turn. “I’m still renting, yeah. Just had to take a detour is all.”

“Couch is taken, as you can see.” Jack could see. “You’re on the floor.”

Jack nodded. “Hey, you got a blanket or something I can use,” he asked. “Just till I get my own?”

The harsh voice turned to harsh laughter. “Yeah, and we offer maid and laundry service, too. Delancey Full Service Mansion.”

Jack thought about just staying at the table for the night, but he had to stretch out. The couple on the couch took no notice of him as he lay on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. He tried rolling on his side so he could face away from them, but that wasn’t going to happen. People came and went, talking, selling, drinking, tripping, slamming. Eventually he fell asleep, one hand under his head, one arm over his eyes. 


	2. Jack Stinks

By the time he got to school, the tardy bell had rung. Jack combed his hair with his fingers and slunk into first period English. Charlie looked him up and down. “What happened to you?” he whispered. “You smell so bad.”

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later.” Jack mumbled. Why had he come. His gut hurt after all that walking, even though he'd tried to go slowly. Of course he didn’t have his fucking homework. Or a pencil. Hamlet. Was that the one with the witches? He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Same for second, third, and fourth periods. Lunch, but who wants their name shouted out for the free lunch list held by the other lunch lady. He did, that’s who, Jack thought. He was freaking hungry. He dragged himself and his tray over to Charlie and Albert.

“You look like shit,” said Albert. Jack had heard this before from Albert. “Where have you been? And seriously, what the fuck is that smell? Did you puke on yourself?”

“Yeah,” was all Jack could say, wolfing down his lunch. “I did. Before I had fucking surgery.” 

Albert and Charlie stared. 

“Appendectomy. Remember our sweet goodbye the other night? I got to my apartment and got completely sick.” Jack finally looked up at his former foster brothers. “Kath got my bag and took me to her house when the hospital said I had to leave, but then her old man threw me out. I ain’t been able to change my clothes.”

“Dude, why are you here?” Albert asked. “You’re eighteen. You’re free, asshole.”

It was Jack’s turn to stare. “One, I’m fucking hungry. Two, I’m not completely stupid, like you. I want a high school diploma, dumbass. I gotta graduate.”

"They ain't gonna let you graduate if all you do is sit in a chair with your head down, Jacky," said Charlie. "Where's your school stuff?"

"In my bag, Mr. Perfect. Sorry I didn't do my homework in the operating room. I know I have to do stuff," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll get there."

Katherine was waiting for him, leaning against her car, as he left the school building at the end of the day. He walked stiffly over to her, trying to look happy. He was happy. He was. He was also going to pass out, he was pretty sure. 

“Kath, what are you doing here?” he asked. “Is everything okay?” He tried to lean casually against the car too, trying on his big grin, suddenly very aware of how much he was sweating through his pukey tshirt, and desperately wanting to lie down. Leaning would have to do.

“Jack, you look terrible! Why did you even come to school today?” Katherine exclaimed, taking his face in her hands. Ew, his face was clammy.

"I love Hamlet," he said, trying to make her laugh, pulling up the corners of his mouth as best he could.

“You have to come back home with me," she insisted.

Jack wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. He settled for a regretful smile. “I don’t think so, Kath. I ain’t going up and down those stairs again.”

“Your apartment is on the third floor,” she pointed out. “No elevator.”

This was true. “But I live there,” was the best he could come up with. Little dots and dark flashes started entering his vision. More and more flashes, as his hearing got fuzzy. He grabbed the side of the car but found nothing to hang on to. He turned around, rolling down the side of the car, grasping at nothing, soon finding himself taking a close look at her rear tire. Had he been shot? It felt like someone had shot him. He would never move again.

“Jack! Albert, help me!” Kath shouted down the street to Albert. They managed to get Jack propped up in the passenger seat of her car, as he insisted he was fine.

“You got it, Kath?” Albert asked. “I gotta go. I ain’t waiting around for Jack to puke on me.” Jack gave Albert the finger. Katherine waved Albert off and went around and sat in the driver’s seat, looking at Jack’s paper-white face.

“Kath,” Jack whispered. “Can I just stay here for a minute?” He reached down and lowered the seat back as far as it would go. He felt worse now that he did before his appendectomy, but then, the doctors hadn’t recommended throwing himself on the sidewalk either. He waited and waited for his gut to calm down, eyes closed, trying not to cry.

Katherine watched him as his breathing gradually became steadier. Was he going to talk again? Was he really falling asleep? Yes, this boy was asleep. She sank back in her seat, and eventually reached over to smooth out his hair a little. After a while, she reached around for her bookbag and got out some homework, resting her notebook on the steering wheel. My gosh. She started up the car for a moment so she could roll down her window and Jack's. The breeze helped. She looked over at Jack, wondering if she could get out a shirt from his bag in the back seat and change his shirt while he was sleeping. Tempting, especially if only partially successful, but she reluctantly thought the better of it.

When it finally got too dark to see, Katherine started up her car. She could get him something to eat and then bring him home to those Neanderthals, she figured. Jack stirred. "Where're we going," he mumbled. "Let's stay here and make love."

Katherine laughed. "Next time, babe. Let's get you something to eat, okay?"

"Your dad ain't paid me yet."

"My dad fired you. You aren't getting any money from him."

"I forgot. Then I'm broke. Are you surprised?" He rolled his head a little and rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, very. What do you want?" She pulled out into the street.

"All the steak." He opened his eyes a little. "Kath, no. Just take me home."

"Why, so you can eat someone else's peanut better and drink someone else's beer?"

"Something like that. They won't mind."

"They'll kick your ass, surgery or no surgery."

"They'll kick my ass when I can't pay my rent."

"Focus, Jack. Food. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just take me home." Jack straightened his seat up a little. "I'm serious." Her dad finds out she's buying him dinner, that's just a deeper hole for him to climb out of. Independent his ass.

Katherine looked over and saw the look on his face. "Okay, fine. But get something later, okay?"

"You bet."


	3. His Arm

Jack took the last few steps, dropped his bag, and slowly lowered himself to sit on the couch. His shirt. He should change it. He slowly leaned forward and opened his bag, sucking in his breath as he jerked at the zipper. Leaning back on the couch, he slipped his old shirt off, taking the opportunity to check his incisions. Smaller than he expected, given how much he hurt. He pulled on the fresh shirt, wishing Katherine were there to appreciate it. Maybe he should shower? Did they have an extra towel? He doubted it. Deodorant it was, then. Again he slowly leaned over to his bag and rummaged around until he found the deodorant. Katherine would really appreciate it now, he thought. 

The apartment was shockingly quiet, so Jack stretched out on the couch, carefully shifting around until he felt as good as he was going to feel. He wondered how he’d get rent to these guys by the end of the week. They’d been the only ones willing to let him in on a promise to pay when the week was over instead of ahead of time. The Pulitzer name and job had helped. Jack felt a twinge of worry, but had long since learned that a night spent in a bed or on a couch couldn’t be taken back by anyone. 

He awoke to the sensation of someone reaching under his chest and waist and being rolled off the couch, straight onto his front. Jack let out an audible “guh,” clenching his fists, before trying to turn and see what was happening. 

“Thought you’d get away with it, huh, kid,” smirked Oscar. 

Jack pushed himself up onto his knees, trying to think. His gut wouldn’t let him. He gasped for breath, still trying to keep it shallow, but it didn’t work that way.

“My buddies said you ain’t working for Pulitzer like you said.” Oscar picked up the baseball bat by the door and walked over to Jack. 

Jack looked up, breathing hard still. “I had an appendectomy. I can’t work for a few days,” he said, putting his hands on the coffee table and trying to stand. Oscar put his foot on Jack’s shoulder and pushed him back down, onto his back. Jack smothered a yell.

“So where’s the rent gonna come from? Hm?” Oscar asked, taking another step closer. Jack tried backing up, only to find the iron radiator right behind him.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll get it, I swear,” Jack said, glancing at the bat. Oscar swung it so he caught it with his other hand.

“Not by the end of the week. Not when you promised.” Oscar raised his eyebrows. “So when, Jacky? Or are you just gonna keep mooching off of us?” He smiled and smacked the bat again in his hand.

Jack swallowed. “You can take my stuff. Take my bag, it’s got everything I own.”

Oscar laughed out loud. “I don’t think so, Jacky,” he said, suddenly serious. “You gotta pay now. Right now.” The bat went up. Just in time Jack got his arm up, shielding his head, but on the edge of the radiator. The bat came down, making a sickening crack as it hit Jack’s forearm. Jack scrambled away, managing to get to the other side of the coffee table, as Oscar brought the bat back up. The bat came down again, aiming squarely for Jack’s side. This time Jack dropped to the floor, below the swing, and crawled as fast as he could to the door, holding his left arm to his chest. He grabbed the doorknob, opened the door, and ran into the hall as the bat came flying after him. 

His arm was broken, that was for sure. He’d broken it before. Or rather, it had been broken before, when he was little. He headed for the hospital, trying to keep his arm still. Hours later, after trying to get some rest in the waiting room, he was called back. Hours later, after trying to rest on the exam table, he had a cast on his arm. He paused at the water fountain after being discharged, noting the pouring down rain, and glanced around the waiting room. It was pretty full. He could probably do it. He kept drinking until the next patient was called back, and slipped into the vacant chair. He leaned back as best he could and tried to sleep.

Jack awoke as the emergency room got quiet in the early morning. It was still raining. The lady working at the desk smiled at him, so he eased himself upright and went over to her.

“Can I get a plastic bag, please?” he asked, holding up his arm. “I don’t want to get this wet.” She smiled again and handed him a plastic bag. “Thanks.” 

“Honey,” she said, as Jack started to turn away, “we aren’t a hotel. Don’t try that again.”

Jack tried to smile. “No, ma’am. I won’t. You have a good day.” Well, she couldn’t take last night back, could she. He walked slowly out the door and headed to school, holding his bagged arm up so the rain wouldn’t drip into his cast. He was completely drenched by the time he got there, and spent a good five minutes wringing out his shirt, standing in front of the radiator in the entryway, trying to dry out. He stuffed the bag into his pocket.

“Everything all right, Jack?” the secretary asked, as he finally signed in.

”Yes, ma’am. Just a fall down the stairs.” He grinned at her. “I’m clumsy. And I should have worn my jacket, right?” She didn’t look amused.

Jack squeezed into the seat next to Charlie, his pants still soaked. Charlie looked at him and laughed. “You auditioning for some kind of wet tshirt calendar? You’re not that hot. You look like a drowned rat.”

“I look great and you know it. You’re just jealous,” Jack whispered back. Still no homework, no ma’am. He was sorry. He’d turn it in tomorrow, yes. Again, head down for periods two, three, and four, just trying to stay there long enough to get to lunch. Shout his name all you want, ladies, he thought.

Albert saw Jack balancing his lunch on his cast. Jack finally made it to their table, easing himself down before ignoring them all as he shoveled food into his mouth. “You and Kath get a little rough last night, Jacky?” Albert asked.

“Something like that,” Jack mumbled around his food. “Fuck you.”

“What happened, Jack?” Charlie asked. “Tell us.”

“Nothing,” Jack said. Some launch, he thought. He’d fucked everything up from the minute he got tossed out. “You should see Oscar Delancey. In a fucking body cast.”

Albert smiled approvingly and threw a steamed carrot at Jack’s face. Jack pretend-lunged at Albert with his chin and shoulders, slamming his fist on the table, grinning. Then grimacing. Christ on a bike, that hurt his gut. He exhaled and slowly sat down again. He rubbed his eye with his wrist. 

“Time for class, fellas. Let’s see if they can make Albert smart, hm?” He grinned again at Albert as Charlie laughed.


	4. Jack Goes to School

Jack spent the last periods of school with his head down, trying to figure out what he was going to do. The end-of-the-day announcements got his attention, though. Kath had track meets on Wednesdays, so she wouldn’t be waiting for him today, so maybe this would work. The dismissal bell rang, and Jack headed for the restrooms to avoid Charlie and Albert. After a few minutes, he went back into the hallway and headed for the library.

“Jack, hi,” said Mr. Jacobs. “What can I do for you?” 

“Hi, Mr. Jacobs,” said Jack. “Um, I’m here to help with the tutoring club?” Mr. Jacobs did a nice save and didn’t actually drop his papers, Jack noticed.

“Oh, yes, um, well, the tutoring club is for honors students. Unless I’m not remembering right, I didn’t see your name on that list. If there was a mistake, then perhaps you could look into that...” Mr. Jacobs hesitated. “Did I miss seeing your name?”

“No. I ain’t, I’m not on it. But Mr. Jacobs, the club tutors little kids, right? I mean, I can help a real little kid with math, you know? I’m not that dumb,” said Jack, turning on the charm. “Little kids like me. And it’ll help my resume.”

“This is true. But no pranks this year, understood? These kids have to make real progress.” Mr. Jacobs looked at Jack over his glasses.

“Yes, sir, understood,” said Jack. “No vaseline on the whiteboards. You got it. I’ll stay and help clean up, too.” Mr. Jacobs looked impressed by Jack’s blossoming maturity. This might work.

“Okay, then. Why don’t you work with Romeo over there. He’s having trouble with math. And in an hour can I count on you to help make the snacks?” Mr. Jacobs asked.

“On it, Mr. Jacobs. Romeo will be a genius when I’m done with him.” Jack smiled his winning smile and headed over to Romeo’s table. He sat down slowly, wishing so much that tutoring could be done lying down. Well, why not. Romeo was thrilled, lying on the floor with Jack, Jack on his back using an almanac as a pillow and Romeo on his stomach, kicking his feet up.

Romeo was very impressed by Jack’s broken arm, and worked steadily the entire hour with Jack so he could get a look at Jack’s incisions if he got his math homework done correctly. The hour completed, Jack got out the pudding cups and spoons, making sure each little kid got one before the tutors did. “Really?” he asked the one sophomore scornfully. “Little kids first, jackass.” Romeo gazed up at him in awe.

Romeo stuck around, wanting to help Jack clean up, but Jack sent him on his way. Mr. Jacobs had his jacket on and shoulder bag ready, waiting for Jack by the door. 

“I’ll be done in a few minutes, Mr. Jacobs,” Jack said. “I’ll be right out.”

“Okay,” said Mr. Jacobs. “The janitor will be here in about fifteen minutes to get the garbage and close up. Be sure to be done by then.”

“Yes, sir,” smiled Jack.

Mr. Jacobs gone, Jack checked the hallway. No sign of the janitor. He moved as fast as he could to the table covered in pudding cups and scraped all of them clean with his spoon. He licked all of the peel-off tops that hadn’t already been licked clean. There were two extra cups, which Jack devoured. He turned off half the lights, threw all the trash away and went to the far corner of the library, where he could see through the stacks to the front of the room where the garbage was, and the side wall where the bathroom was. Soon enough the janitor came in, emptied the trash by the desk and in the bathroom, and shut off the rest of the lights. Yes. It worked. One more night they couldn’t take away.

Jack settled into the last row of books, finding a book of the right width to serve as a pillow. The floor again, yes, but no one here was aiming a baseball bat at him either, he thought. Bonus that the library had its own bathroom, for sure. He’d have to make sure to wash up tomorrow morning. No. Now. The sink should be dry in the morning, with no new trash. Reluctantly, Jack got to his feet and went into the dark bathroom. He shut the door and turned on the light. He took off his shirt and washed up as best he could using his one good hand and soap from the soap dispenser, mourning the water dripping all over the floor. He soaked his hair and tried to wash it in the sink, willing his gut to cooperate. Finally, he shut off the light and went back to his bed. Uh oh. His hair. He couldn’t get a book wet. Nice going, Kelly. He wadded up his shirt and put it on the book. Definitely more comfortable for his head. Definitely colder for the rest of him. 

Jack lay there, suddenly realizing it wasn’t that late. There was still light coming in through the windows, but he’d have to be careful. Look at the books out of the line of sight and he should be fine. He crept along the floor, picking a few books to look at until it got dark. This could really work, he thought. Put them back before going to sleep, though. And don’t screw it up. Don’t screw any of this up.

He’d figure out tomorrow in the morning.


	5. There Are Worse Places

Jack awoke to the sound of Mr. Jacobs coming in and putting his bag down. Quietly Jack peered through the stacks. There would be no reason for Mr. Jacobs to come back here, Jack thought. Not yet, anyway. He waited, not daring to move. How early did he get here? Jack didn’t hear much sound coming from the hallway, so he guessed Mr. Jacobs had come in pretty early.

“Hey, Dad, can I leave this in here with you until third period? It won’t really fit in my locker or anywhere else.” Jack heard David Jacobs come in, obviously wrestling with a science project of some kind.

Mr. Jacobs pointed to a corner, not looking up. “Have a good day, David.”

“Thanks, Dad. See you later.” David put the project down and left.

Jack waited. At long last, Mr. Jacobs stood up and headed for the restroom. Jack threw on his shirt and moved as quickly as he could to the hallway, blending in with the growing crowd.

That afternoon, Jack returned to the library and was paired with Romeo again. This time Jack said Romeo could draw on his cast if he got everything right, and that worked for Romeo. Jack took the opportunity to stash some paper on a shelf while Romeo was working. Time to maybe actually get some homework done tonight, which made Jack oddly excited, now that he knew that the library had copies of his textbooks. Why hadn’t he known that, he wondered. Well, he knew now.

The same drill worked again at the end of tutoring, although Romeo took forever to finish decorating his name with robots on Jack’s cast. Jack waited patiently, taking the time to wonder what he was going to tell Kath. If he left, he probably couldn’t get back in for the night. But if he stayed, she’d wonder why he’d stood her up. The temptation of doing his homework and being inside won in the end, Jack hoping against hope that she might forgive him.

That evening Jack took stock a little more thoroughly. He’d washed his hair and top half of his body last night. He really needed to clean up his clothes. Just do it, Kelly. Do it now. Before he thought any more about it, he plunged his clothes into the sink and washed them as best he could with one hand. He squeezed and squeezed, not at all impressed with the soggy, dripping pile he made. They’d dry faster with body heat, right? He forced himself to put everything back on but his socks, and went back to his corner. Homework should help keep his mind off of his clothes, he guessed. Working by the remaining daylight, and the the light of the exit sign near his corner, he did actually make some headway. At long last, he sat back and admired his work.

He leaned back against the wall, looking at the shelf of books in front of him. The red exit light reflected off of their covers. Degas. Matisse. Picasso. Rembrandt. He randomly picked one to look at and flipped through it. He put it back and pulled out another one. And another. Picking up his pencil, he took a piece of paper and tried to copy a painting of a girl holding a broom. She looked out at him, her red hair pulled back. He was taken by the look of determination on her face. Well, maybe he wasn’t as good as Rembrandt, but he liked trying. His clothes were a little drier, anyway, by the time he was done. Jack slept well.

Katherine waited for him after school. Albert and Charlie said they hadn’t seen him. Maybe she missed him? Frustrated, she started up her car and drove to his wretched apartment. She hadn’t told her friends at school where he had moved to. Regional honors choir was all they knew. She knocked on the door. Pounded. Was he sleeping already? Nothing. Well, she tried. He’d better have a good excuse.


	6. Misdirection and Dave’s Surprise Visit

Jack tried not to panic. What did Mr. Jacobs mean, no tutoring on Fridays? Jack tried to stay calm. What was Dave looking at? Mind your own business, egghead.

“Okay,” Jack grinned. “I just don’t want Romeo to get held back on account of me. Have a good weekend, Mr. Jacobs. See you around, Dave.” Jack turned and went down the hallway. Was there anyplace else? The teacher monitoring the entryway ushered him outside, straight into Katherine.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Where have you been? And what happened to your arm?” Katherine glanced from his face to his arm and back again.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Fell down the stairs.”

“I bet you did. Don’t lie to me, Jack.” She frowned at him. 

“What should we do tonight? Let’s make love in your car. You promised,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. “I’m just about healed up from my surgery.”

She pushed back against his chest. “Jack. Tell me the truth.”

“All right, all right. Albert did it. He wanted my burrito at lunch so I made him fight me for it. He lost.” Jack grinned. “He won’t be eating a burrito for a while. All liquid diet for the next two weeks.”

“Jaaaack, really.” She laughed, reaching up and pushing his hair back.

“Let’s go somewhere, please,” he begged, sticking out his lower lip. “I need a kiss. And whatever else you’ll give me.”

“Baby?” Katherine asked softly.

“Not now, Kath. We’re too young.” He nuzzled into her neck, wishing his cast could be a little cuddlier around her chest. He loved the feeling of her bare back against his chest, that was for sure. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t entirely healed from his surgery, but close enough. He’d suck it up if it meant being this close to her. He stroked her stomach and breasts with his good hand.

“Baby, where were you yesterday? I didn’t see you after school, and you weren’t at your apartment.” She adjusted the blanket she had put over them. 

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m tutoring after school now. That’s what all this writing is on my cast. Romeo did that. Seriously, that’s his name. I let him write on it if he did good in math.” Jack pulled down the blanket a little to show her his cast up close. “He’s pretty cute.”

“You’re tutoring? Why?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised, Miss Smarty. I gotta think about my future, you know. Get stuff for my resume.” Jack kissed the back of her neck. “I could tutor you some more, too, if you want.” His good hand slowly migrated toward her hips. 

Jack lingered, kissing Katherine one last time before getting out of her car in front of his apartment building. Former apartment building. “See you tomorrow? At the park? What do you want to do? Pick something free, okay?”

Katherine nodded. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something,” she said, hand moving from his neck to his chest, and smiling.

Jack stayed on the sidewalk and waved to her as she drove away. He took one glance around and then walked quickly around the corner, and did not stop for a few blocks. Fuck. Back to this again. He put his hand up on a wall and leaned for a moment. It wasn’t too cold, but it wasn’t exactly warm out either. He’d be fine.

“Hey, babe,” he said, getting up from the bench to kiss Katherine. “What’re we doing today?”

“I was thinking we could go to the art museum. They’re having a free day today. We could pretend to be adults who care about culture,” she smiled back at him.

“Lah di dah,” Jack said. That actually sounded like fun, though. He grabbed her hand and started walking. “But I can’t do it all day. I’ve got to look for a job today, too. What do you think I should do?”

“Be a farmer. Milk cows in Central Park.”

“You got it. I’ll get on that,” he said seriously. “All that calcium will be good for my arm.”

Jack sat on the bench and ran his fingers through his hair. He had already known no one would hire him. Not with this cast. Not without an address. He had tried anyway, all goddam afternoon. The pitying looks got to be too humiliating, though. Just let him work, he thought. Quit looking at me like that. His stomach rumbled, but he did his best to ignore it. There was a soup kitchen not too far from here, he knew, but he didn’t know if he wanted to add to his humiliation. Finally he got up, walked the eight blocks, and got in line. No. This couldn’t be happening. Jack stood in line, plate in hand, and didn’t know what to do.

“Hey, Jack. What do you want? Hamburger or hot dog?” Dave Jacobs asked, tongs in hand. Clearly he was trying to act like this happened every day.

Jack could hardly speak. “Hamburger,” he said finally.

Dave put together a hamburger and put it on Jack’s plate. “Enjoy,” he said, smiling. Jack focused on the cups of applesauce down the counter.

Jack hunched over his plate at a table in the corner and ate as fast as he could. He practically threw his plate at the return window in the kitchen and left. He might puke it all up, he thought. How many times had he been there with his mom, years ago, and never ran into anyone he knew? Even Charlie had been through there for a while, but they never met until landing in the same foster home. Fucking hell. Would Dave tell anyone? Jack didn’t really know him that well. Would Dave tell his dad? Probably. Shit.

Jack sat in the outside stairwell at the church again that night, wishing so hard it would be Monday, and also wishing Monday would never come.


	7. Sunday 1

Jack shifted around, the dawning light waking him up just a little. His arm ached, but he let his thoughts drift to Katherine. He pretended she was there with him, leaned up against him like she had the other day. He smiled a little, remembering her smell, the thick texture of hair, the softness of, well, everything. Just the thought of her kisses on his face, his neck, his chest, made him drift away from the stairwell and into a fantasy of doing it all over again today. 

Gradually Jack began to hear voices coming closer. Drunk voices.

“I told her she should be grateful, dude...” Laughter, still closer. “And then she said...” The voices stopped. Jack kept his eyes closed hoping they hadn’t seen him, that they would keep walking. “Hey, I need a cast like that! Romeo! She’d love it! Hey, you, gimme your cast.” More laughing, getting closer. “Who’s in love with you, man? Romeo? Gimme your cast!”

Jack opened his eyes at the sound of one of the guys coming down the stairwell. He slid up the wall, his cast held to his chest. All three wore dress shirts, ties loosened or undone. The stockiest one stumbled on the last step and crashed into Jack. Jack pushed him away and tried to move to the steps, hoping the other two were too drunk to fight.

“Dude, give it here!” the stocky one shouted, grabbing for Jack’s tshirt. He caught the sleeve and pulled hard enough to rip the already worn seam. Jack kept pulling away and scrambled up the steps. “I’ll give you money for it!”

The friends thought that was particularly funny. “How much do you want? Dude, it’s funny! We’ll pay you for your cast!” Jack tried to push past them, looking at the ground. “Hey, man, stop! Don’t be rude! Hey, we’re talking to you!” They caught Jack’s arm and turned him around. Jack kept his eyes on the ground, rolling his shoulder. “What, you don’t wanna talk to us? Don’t you want the money? Can you talk? Or are you stupid? Are... you... stuuuupid?” 

Jack yanked away again, but by this time all three of them were surrounding him, pushing him back and forth. Finally Jack lifted his head and swung out with his good hand, catching one of them in the jaw, sending him reeling. Jack broke through and started to run, but the impact of the stocky guy had hurt his barely healed gut enough that running was hard. The taunting grew as the three easily chased him down the side of the church, and Jack found himself sprawled on the pavement. Every attempt to get up landed him either shoved into the wall or back on the ground. He finally curled up, waiting for it to be over.

“Hey! Hey!! What’s going on back there?!” Jack heard a voice shout. The three friends paused for a second before running off, laughing. Jack stayed still.

“Hey, are you okay?” The same voice, but quieter, came closer. “I’m the janitor here. It’s okay. They’re gone.” Jack uncurled and looked up to see a young man kneeling next to him. Jack sat up, brushing himself off, thankful he was only bruised and a little bloody and nothing worse.

“I’m good,” he muttered. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to come in and clean up? You hungry?” he asked.

“No, I’m good, thanks.” Jack rolled onto his knees and slowly got up. His shirt was a mess now. The collar and sleeve were both torn. He had mud up and down his pants.

“You got a name?”

Jack shook his head.

“No name, huh. My name’s Conlon. You know, I didn’t have a name for a while either. You got a record, is that it?” Spot asked. Jack eyed him suspiciously. “Breaking and entering. Petty theft. Assault. You?”

“I ain’t got a record,” Jack said.

“Okay. Have it your way. You sure you’re not hungry?” Spot asked frankly. Jack looked at Spot. He was just standing there, not in any hurry. Like this was the most normal conversation in the world to have with a stranger, asking cop questions. Jack felt around in his mouth with his tongue, checking for where the blood was coming from. Ooh. Right there. He ran his wrist over his nose. 

“I gotta go,” said Jack. 

“Like hell. Come inside and get cleaned up.” Spot pointed to the door. “Ain’t nobody here yet but me.” Jack hesitated. How was he going to explain all this to Katherine? Maybe he could find another shirt here? He couldn’t go to school tomorrow like this without the inquisition jumping down his throat.

He looked again at Spot and nodded. “Okay.” 

Spot grinned and led him over to the door. “That’s better.”

Jack let himself smile a little as he followed Spot inside. It was warm, and the washroom was clean (“Naturally,” said Spot. “It is my job, you know. Don’t insult me.”). Spot handed Jack a glass of grape juice (“We got plenty of that,” he said.) and a little loaf of banana bread from the cabinet marked for fellowship hour snacks (“These little old ladies make it all the time. They’ll never miss one,” he said, eyes rolling.). He sat down across from Jack at a table in the hall, trying not to smirk as Jack finished everything off without taking a breath.

Jack finished and looked self-consciously at Spot. “Sorry. Um, thanks. That was good.”

“I guess it was,” said Spot. “You want some more?”

“No. But thanks. For, you know, rescuing me and stuff.” Jack pulled at the edge of his cast for several seconds.

“What.” Spot demanded. “What? Just ask me.”

“Listen,” said Jack, “I uh, I got school tomorrow.” Spot wasn’t expecting that, Jack could see. “I’m gonna need another shirt, but I ain’t got any money.” Spot gave him a “no shit” look. “You got any ideas? I ain’t looking to get locked up again.” Shit.

“I knew it. Don’t worry about it. Let me see what I can do. You wanna stick around and ask the pastor? She might have some ideas too. Where’re you staying?” Spot asked.

“I don’t think I should stick around,” Jack answered. “I can come back.”

“Suit yourself. They’re not like that here,” Spot said. “They hired me, didn’t they?” Jack shrugged. “I get it. Yeah, you can come back later. I’m here until two.” He peered at Jack. “You ain’t answered my question. Where’re you staying? What’s your name?”

“See you later,” said Jack, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. Walking with Katherine would be tough today. Holy crap.

“Kid, what’s your name?” Spot persisted. “I’m trying to help you out. Tell me your name and where you’re staying. Hey, come back!”

Jack left. He’d figure it out.


	8. Sunday 2

Jack waited in the drizzle at their usual spot in the park. At least he still had his bag for his cast. Small victories, he thought. His hair gradually weighed down with rain, and he wiped the water from his eyes as he saw Katherine approaching.

“Hey, babe,” Jack grinned. “What’re we doing today?”

Katherine slung her purse onto the bench next to Jack and sat turned to him, smiling, as she shared her umbrella. Her smile quickly faded. “What happened to you? Why is your face all scraped up? What happened to your shirt??!” she said, pulling at the rips in the sleeve and collar. “Did those monsters do something to you? And why are your jeans all muddy? Jack, what happened to you?”

“They didn’t do nothing,” he said, still smiling, touching her cheek with his thumb. “I’m just a slob. Let’s go.” He took the umbrella and held out his hand to Katherine.

“A wet slob,” she said, standing. “I know you have a jacket. I saw it in your bag,” she continued, pushing his hair back from his forehead and pointing to her car parked nearby.

“Jackets are for wimps,” he said. “I ain’t gonna melt.”

“Did you find a job yesterday?” she asked. “How’d it go?”

Jack’s smile finally faltered. “I got a few leads, yeah,” he said. “Everything’s gonna be good.”

”Where?” she asked brightly. “Doing what?”

“Let’s get in your car and I’ll tell you all about it. In private,” he said, running his hand into her jacket and around to her back, pulling her in. “I talk better when I can kiss you.” He pulled her all the way in for a kiss, feeling Katherine relax into his arm. She pulled out her keys, still kissing him.

“I thought we could go to the puppet festival,” she said finally, pulling back. “They have puppets from all over the world.”

“Sure, puppets. But let’s make out first.” He opened the back door and crawled back so she could sit between his legs.

Katherine got in, facing Jack and pushed on his chest as she came for another kiss, causing Jack to suck in his breath. Those guys had worked him over better than he thought.

“I’m sorry,” she said, moving her hands a little. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah, a little,” he said, straining his smile.

“Let me see and I’ll make it better,” she said slyly, pulling up his shirt. “Jack? Baby? You’ve got bruises all over your ribs! This isn’t from surgery.” She frowned up at him. “Tell me the truth, Jack.”

“It’s nothing, Kath, really. I’ve looked like this most of my life,” he pleaded. “Let’s just get cozy, okay? You got that blanket somewhere?” 

Katherine sat up. “I do. And you shouldn’t always look like this, I hope you know that. Most people don’t look like this. Now tell me what happened.”

“All right, all right, Miss Nosy. A few drunk guys thought my cast was funny with ‘Romeo’ written on it and got in my face. That’s it, I swear.” He held up two fingers like a Boy Scout. “I can’t make that stuff up.”

Katherine looked at him skeptically. “Your roommates need new friends,” she said.

“Amen,” replied Jack. “Will you kiss me now, please?”

Katherine held up her hand. “Job info first.”

Jack smiled. “A couple of restaurants told me to come back today. There, happy?”

Katherine frowned. “When are you supposed to be there? You’re not wearing this, are you?” She waved her hand at Jack generally. “Let’s get you back to your apartment so you can change into something clean, at least.”

Jack sat up a little straighter. “I’m fine, Kath. I thought we could spend some time together and then I can take care of all that. I’m a big boy. I can change my own clothes.” He started to feel his heart pound a little. 

“I know. I just don’t want you to be late. And I want to be sure the love of my heart looks nice,” she said, an edge of frustration entering her tone.

Jack reached for her face. “I won’t be late. And I’ll look nice. Can we get back to our important business now? I need someone to help me feel better.” Jack pulled out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

“Not for long. The puppets are waiting,” she teased. She leaned in and kissed every bruise he had. 

Jack walked slowly back to the church just before two, gradually soaking in the continuing drizzle again. Spot was taking out the trash.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d see you,” Spot said, walking back to the entry.

“Yeah. Sorry,” said Jack. “Um, listen, about the shirt. Just forget it. I was really rude. I just wanted to say thanks for the food.”

“No worries, my friend. I talked to people this morning and they went home and brought you a bunch of stuff to try on. Come on in.” Spot held the door open and made sure it latched before taking Jack back to the main hall.

Jack stood in amazement. There was a bag of jeans, and bag of shirts, and some sweatshirts. He started to look through them for his size. Most were way too long, but he found two big shirts that fit over his cast and a pair of jeans that fit him okay. Spot watched, and finally brought out a pack of new socks. “Someone went and bought these for you, too.”

Jack took the pack and sat down. “Was it you?” he asked.

“Hey, I’m nice, but not that nice. I ain’t that rich either. Miss Medda got you those.” Spot pointed at the socks. “Like ‘em?”

Jack just nodded. The tears started to build up and sting his eyes. “They didn’t even know me,” he said. “I ain’t ever had new.” He held the pack and looked at Spot. He looked back at the pack and opened it up. He took out a pair and carefully closed the pack back up and put it on the table. “I ain’t taking all of them.” Where would he even keep them, he wondered. Where would he keep the shirts and pants, for that matter. He needed only one shirt. The socks he could keep in his pockets. Slowly he put a shirt back, and then the jeans.

Spot looked him up and down. “I asked you before. Where’re you staying?”

Jack looked at him. “My name’s Jack. Thanks for everything. Tell Miss Medda thanks.” He shoved the socks in his pockets, tied the shirt sleeves around his waist, and left.


	9. Rain, Violence, and Dave

The rain was coming down a little harder as Jack walked away from the church. He put the bag back on his arm, and put on the long-sleeved shirt over his tshirt. He wandered grocery stores, clothing stores, and finally ended up in a bookstore looking at the art books. He closed the book he was looking at and looked out the window. Five minutes to closing. Fuck.

He was twenty-one. Yes, he was. No, he didn’t have fucking ID. Adult means eighteen, fucker. Men’s shelter, it says right there, asshole. Where’s a guy supposed to go, then? It’s fucking pouring out here. Well fuck you too.

Full? He didn’t care. He can sleep anywhere. He don’t need a cot. He can just sit right over there on the floor in the corner and not bother nobody. No, he wasn’t trying to tell them how to run the place. Well fuck you too.

Jack stood in the recessed doorway of the closed hardware store, shivering, dripping, trying to think. He leaned against the wall and slid down to the ground, folding his arms over his knees. He put his head down on his arms and hoped the night would just go away. 

“Move along, buddy.” A nightstick prodded Jack’s knee. “You can’t stay there.” Jack looked up and blinked. He pushed himself up, holy fuck did those guys really get him that bad, and started walking down the sidewalk. He hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms in front of him, holding the bag on tight. After two blocks he slowed and looked back. No cop. 

He wondered to himself why he cared so much where he stopped for the night when he was already soaking wet, but finally settled under the little awning of the back door of an Italian restaurant that had closed for the night. He still was going to be wet, he thought. Better than sitting in the middle of the fucking sidewalk. At least Katherine’s dry, so that’s good. Dry, yeah. That’s a nice high bar to set for her, he thought bitterly. Pulitzer would be so impressed if Jack would be able to keep his daughter dry. He wondered what she was doing, what she had for dinner. Charlie and Albert were probably doing homework. Charlie probably was, anyway. That foster home hadn’t been too bad. Not super friendly, but they didn’t hit you. But no foster care extension, no sir. He half laughed. They usually had food around, which was nice. Jack wished he’d gotten there younger than he had, but whatever. Six months had been pretty good. He looked out over the back alley, at the rain reflecting off of the pavement. 

Jack hoped he could avoid Dave tomorrow. But what if he’d told his dad... Jack didn’t know Dave well enough to know if he’d do that or not. He remembered thinking how nice it was when his mom took him there when he was little. He just felt better on those days, was about all he could remember. His mom would sometimes even smile at him. Shit. Why did he always go down this road. Just stop. He put his head down on his arms again.

The next morning, Jack woke up early. Still soaking wet, he stood up, testing out his ribs and combing his hair with his fingers. He hoped his walk to school would help dry out his clothes, but that didn’t work out as well as he had hoped.

Charlie looked at him questioningly again. “Jack, what is up with you? Most people put on dry clothes in the morning. Do you shower in yours these days?”

“Pretty much. Saves on laundry,” Jack whispered back. No ma’am, he did not have his homework. Again. Yes, ma’am, he would try to do better. Ditto for periods two, three, and four. Lunch at last.

“What’s up with the tent, Jacky?” Albert asked, pointing at Jack’s shirt. “You gain fifty pounds over the weekend?”

Jack glanced up from the tray of food he was demolishing. “It’s big enough to hold me and Kath,” he said grinning with a mouth full of food. “We went camping in it.”

“You look fucking homeless,” said Albert. Jack dropped his fork.

Charlie looked at Albert. “So did you, a few months ago.”

Albert glared at Charlie, then reached over and grabbed Charlie’s shirt. “Listen up, you little...” He stopped short, feeling Jack’s fork against his throat.

“Leave him the fuck alone,” Jack growled, “or I swear to God I’ll go to prison today. No regrets.”

Albert let go of Charlie. “Fuck you, Jack.” Jack knocked Albert’s tray onto the floor and got up to fight. 

“Jack, no,” said Charlie quietly. “They’re coming.” Jack didn’t take his eyes off of Albert as Albert backed down and started cleaning up as the lunch ladies approached. Charlie smiled at them. “Sorry about that! We’ll get it cleaned up! Sorry.."

Jack rolled his shoulder and sat down, putting his arm around Charlie’s neck. “You okay?” 

Charlie grinned back at him. “For sure. But do me a favor and go help Albert.” Jack held Charlie’s gaze for a moment, then went over to Albert and helped pick up the food from the floor.

Jack entered the library for tutoring, and sure enough, Dave was there, waiting for him, off to the side. “Hey, Jack,” he started.

Jack nodded at him. “Hey.”

“Hey, Jack,” David started again, “I, uh, I just wanted to say hi. And, um, see if everything was okay, you know...”

Jack stared him down. “Just needed a snack, Dave. I left my wallet at home.” 

“It didn’t look that way to me,” said David. 

Jack stepped closer. And then a little closer. “Oh yeah? Yeah? What did it look like to you, Dave? Huh?” He pushed his chin up to get close to David’s face. “Tell me.” Jack twisted his head a little to crack his neck, still staring at David.

David started to stammer a reply, but stopped. Jack shoved him against the wall and stepped close again. “Say it. Go ahead, say it, you coward.” He pushed David again.

Before David could reply, Jack felt someone pulling him back. He didn’t break his gaze with Dave until he was forcibly turned. He saw the principal’s face in front of him.

“Jack. Stop. Now.” Jack suddenly realized how hard he had been breathing. “David, are you all right?” The hell. He’s worried about Dave? Jack felt his temper flare again. What was there to be worried about with him? He looked back and saw Dave nod.

“Jack, you need to apologize right now. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior in school.” Now? In front of everyone? What for? 

“Now. Or you will be escorted from the school.” Fuck. Jack forced himself to calm down. He looked at his still-muddy jeans. He shoved his one hand into his pocket and felt his new socks. He checked the buttons of his new shirt to make sure they covered up his tshirt, and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t look at Romeo. The room was quiet, and Jack felt everyone watching to see what he would do. Loose cannon. Violent history. Wasn’t he in juvie? They might as well say these things out loud for as loudly as they were thinking them.

“I’m sorry, Dave,” he muttered. “I’m real sorry. I apologize.”

”’S okay, Jack,” said David. “Don’t worry about it.”

The other kids and tutors started talking again, and the normal buzz filled the library. Jack turned to go to Romeo’s table, only to see Romeo staring at him, his lips pulled in, his eyes teary. “Whatsa matter, Romeo,” Jack plastered on a smile. “Let’s do some math.”

Romeo didn’t move. “You were gonna punch Dave, weren’t you,” he whispered.

“Nah, I wasn’t,” said Jack. Lying is wrong, Kelly. Even you know that. “I just got a little mad.”

“About what?” Romeo was still whispering.

“About who was gonna win the World Series,” said Jack. “I take baseball very seriously.”

Romeo’s eyes got big. “Not the Red Sox.”

“That’s right. Not the Red Sox.”

Jack used his usual routine to stay and clean up after tutoring. With everyone gone, he headed straight for the pudding cups and started in on scraping them clean and licking the peeled off tops. How nice it would be to be inside tonight. He was going to wash his old socks and put on his new pair. They would feel so good, he bet. He should probably wash his jeans, too, and try to get the mud out. Get a bunch of homework done. Suddenly he heard someone behind him. Startled, he whipped around, a cup in hand, to see Dave.

“Dave, what the hell,” Jack said loudly.

“I forgot my science project. I gotta bring it home, Dad said, since I’m done with it in class. He doesn’t want it cluttering up the library any more.” Dave rushed to the corner, picked up his project, and beat a hasty retreat. Had he really seen that? Jack scraping all of the pudding cups? Maybe it had been just his own, although Dave knew better. Dave had stood there for a good minute. Jack had cleaned out several. Dave felt bad for him, but after today he was more than a little scared of him, too. He’d have to think about this.


	10. Dave and Katherine Start to Catch On

David left the school, unnerved. He backed out of the front door and turned to go down the steps when a girl called out to him. “Excuse me!”

He looked over. 

“Do you know Jack Kelly by any chance?” she asked.

“Yeah. Well, a little. Yes. Are you waiting for him?” David came closer.

“Yes, I am. Have you seen him at all?”

“He should be out soon,” David said, a little nervously. How long did it take to clean out pudding cups? And David wasn’t sure he wanted to be hanging around with Jack’s, what, girlfriend? when he came out. “He’s just cleaning up from the tutoring club.”

Katherine leaned back against her car and sighed. “Okay, thanks. I guess I’ll wait a little longer.”

”I’d go get him for you, but the doors lock when you leave, so...” David tried shrugging. “And I gotta go. My dad is waiting. Sorry.”

Katherine waited. And waited. The problem with a poverty-stricken boyfriend was his lack of a phone, for sure. One last time, she’d check at his apartment.

“Dad,” asked David, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Mayer put down his book.

“So, I was at the soup kitchen this past weekend, right, and I saw someone I knew.” David hesitated.

“Someone from school? From temple?” Mayer looked concerned. “Do you know them or do we know them as a family?”

“I’m not sure I want to say. But Dad, I think the soup kitchen isn’t enough. I think they need more help than that. I guess I was just wondering how else I can help,” said David. “It was really sad.”

“How did they feel about seeing you?” asked Mayer. “That might tell you if they want more help from you specifically.”

“He seemed, they seemed, um, pretty mad. And surprised,” said David. “I don’t think they liked seeing me.”

“Well, then, perhaps you had best leave well enough alone. I’m sure they can figure out how to get food pantry items from someone else. I like it that you want to help, David, but sometimes unwelcome help is worse than no help at all.” Mayer smiled at David. “I’m proud that you are concerned, though. Maybe next time will be better, if you see them again.”

“Well, what if it’s not? Better, I mean.” David looked at his hands.

“Time heals a lot of wounds, David. Just be kind and patient, then.” Mayer smiled at David again and went back to his book.

David sat for a moment. “It’s Jack, Dad. He was at the soup kitchen by himself.”

That caught Mayer’s attention. “Jack Kelly? Was at the soup kitchen?”

“He was super hungry. I’ve volunteered there enough to tell.”

“I thought he was in foster care,” said Mayer. “He shouldn’t have to use a soup kitchen.”

“Dad, I don’t know,” David rushed on, now that the bubble had burst, “but when I went back to the library today to get my project, Jack was in there scraping out all of the pudding cups, and licking all of the tops that still had pudding on them. Not just his. All of them. I don’t think he’s getting enough to eat.”

Mayer nodded. It made sense. The interest in tutoring, the willingness to clean up, the encounter with David today. “Is that what that was all about this afternoon, when he pushed you?” David nodded. “But why now, do you think? Perhaps we should ask if he’s in a new home. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, David. Don’t say anything to him. It sounds like he’s embarrassed enough after seeing you.”

Katherine set her jaw and climbed the three floors to Jack’s apartment. Jeez, this place was gross. She would never do this again, Jack or no Jack. She kept her hand firmly on her keys, ready to gouge someone’s eyes out if it came to that. Finally, she pounded on the apartment door, and was moderately shocked when Oscar Delancey opened it.

He leaned in the doorway. “What.”

Katherine cleared her throat. “I’m looking for Jack. Is he here?” She sounded more imperious than she had intended, but too late now.

To her surprise, Oscar laughed. She didn’t think he knew how. “Jack? That little punk ran off last week. I had to break the news that rent ain’t free, if you get what I mean. He owes me rent for three nights. Tell him he better pay up soon or I’ll come and find him myself. And this time I’ll do more than bust up his arm.” Oscar slammed the door in Katherine’s face.

Katherine stood for a moment in shock, putting the pieces together. The lies. The non-answers. If he wasn’t here, though, where in the world was he?


	11. Gaslighting

Jack luxuriated in his clean, if damp, jeans, and new socks. The socks felt so thick. He admired how clean they were, how they stayed up. His old socks hung on the end of the bookshelf to dry overnight. He loved being back inside again, on carpet, even.

Homework done, he copied art from the art books again by the light of the exit sign. He tried not to think about Dave. Or, more specifically, the principal checking on Dave being okay and not Jack. Figures. Dave’s dad was right there, so it made sense that they’d take care of his kid. Like when the teachers’ kids get the solos in choir, or roles in the play, or got to be the pitcher or quarterback. Same thing every fucking place he went. He thought about the times he’d been forced to apologize to biological kids. Or to the warden. To kids he barely knew at school. To principals. To teachers. To social workers. Shit, his whole life felt like an apology. Sorry I’m here, everyone, he thought. Hit me again, I don’t mind. Apologies came in all forms, he’d learned. Those with a beating beforehand, those with one afterwards. Those that ended with being yanked from a house. Unsuitable. Danger to others.

Jack drew furiously, concentrating hard on the painting in front of him. He’d get out of here once he got his diploma. Out. A few more months, that’s it. He’d be done and gone. No more lying, especially to Kath.

Jack waved goodbye to Romeo the next afternoon. Boy, did he like that kid. Jack’s cast was now a monument to Romeo’s artwork, and Romeo did seem to be doing better in math. Even though Jack didn’t feel like he had to lie down as much anymore during tutoring, they still did. Jack had even got Mr. Jacobs to let them race in the hallway when Romeo did especially well that afternoon. Romeo got a three-classroom head start, of course. And Romeo won, naturally. People who did well in math tended to win races, Jack told him. Romeo’s face glowed as he looked up at Jack.

“Jack, could I talk to you for a moment, please?” asked Mayer, once Jack stopped waving. Here it comes, thought Jack. He’d have to apologize to Mr. Jacobs too. And then he’d get kicked out.

Jack raised his chin. “Yeah, sure. Uh, I know I gotta apologize to you, too, Mr. Jacobs. I won’t ever do that to Dave again. Or anyone. Never. I got a bit of a temper, and I’m sorry.” He ran his wrist under his nose. “You don’t gotta kick me out of tutoring. I won’t come back tomorrow. Or ever,” he finished.

Mayer put up his hand. “That’s not it, Jack.” Jack narrowed his eyes. What else could it be? Romeo was doing well. The soup kitchen. Fuck. “I’m going to be honest with you. I’m concerned that David saw you at the soup kitchen this weekend, and then saw you finishing up the pudding cups yesterday. Don’t be angry with him, please. He’s just concerned. And so am I.”

Jack laughed. “Mr. Jacobs, what, you think I’m starving or something? Look, I went to the kitchen because I didn’t have my wallet. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, but it seemed like a good idea then. And what can I say, I love pudding. I always have.” He shrugged. “I’m a sucker for it. I didn’t mean to freak Dave out.” He grinned a big grin.

“Is everything okay? I understand you’re in a foster home. Is everything all right there?” Mayer persisted.

“Yeah, everything’s great there. All good,” Jack replied, still grinning. As far as he knew, that was the truth, he reasoned. “Say, don’t let me keep you here. I’ve got this,” he said, waving his hand at the messes on the tables. “Thanks for asking, though, about stuff. Not everyone does that.” He kept the grin on.

“Okay,” said Mayer. “Well, for the record, if anything ever goes wrong, or you want to talk about anything, you can come to me.” He picked up his bag. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“No worries, Mr. Jacobs,” said Jack. “See you tomorrow.” Mayer left, and Jack rushed to clean up and hide before the janitor got there. No pudding dinner today.

Katherine waited outside the school again. After the rush of kids and tutors leaving, there was not much traffic. A man exited the side door. A teacher? She didn’t want to move from the front of the building in case she missed Jack, though. She waited some more. No Jack. Had she done something wrong? She tried to remember if they had argued. Not that she could remember. 

David looked at his father, exasperated. “He’s lying, Dad! He’s lying. He has to be. You didn’t see the look on his face at the kitchen or when I caught him with the pudding. He wasn’t kidding around.”

“I can go only on what he’s told me, David. He said everything was fine, and that you misunderstood.” Mayer took David by the shoulders. “You’re good to notice. You are. But he seemed fine.”

“Okay, then, if he’s so fine, then say you’re not going to have snacks anymore at tutoring. See how long he sticks around then. He’ll be gone like that.” David snapped his fingers.

“I’m not going to take away snacks, David. Time for homework, isn’t it?” Mayer pointed at David’s bookbag. “Get busy, please.”

Kath entered the school the next morning, figuring she was the only girl in history to skip her own school just to attend another one. Charlie met her as planned and they went to the English classroom. Jack wasn’t there yet, so they waited in the hall. 

“That’s nuts,” Charlie said to her. “He hasn’t said anything about anything to me. I thought he was in that apartment too.”

“Oscar Delancey wants his money. Jack hasn’t been there. And who brags about breaking someone’s arm?” Kath sighed. “Oh! There he is!” She waved. “Jack!”

Jack stopped cold. What was Kath doing here? And what was she doing with Charlie? Nothing good. He knew he had some explaining to do, but he couldn’t think of a way to do that and sleep indoors. No doubt she was mad. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He turned around and tried to get lost in the crowd. Time to leave. He’d come back later and say he overslept. He pushed to the side door closest to him, pushed it open, and ran. 


	12. Spot

Jack didn’t stop until he got to the church. He rang the buzzer, his breath heaving as he asked if Spot was working. A few minutes later, Spot opened the front door, indicating with his head that Jack should come in.

Catching his breath, Jack took off his new shirt and tied it around his waist. Spot didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be thrown by a torn up tshirt. Spot took him down to the same table they sat at before.

“Jack, right?” he asked. Jack nodded, still reaching for air.

“Cops after you?” 

Jack shook his head, his breath slowing a little.

“Good. What’s up,” Spot asked.

Jack hissed out a mix of a laugh and a sob, pushing his wrist into his eye, and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head a little. He thudded his cast onto the edge of the table. Spot waited. “I’m stuck,” Jack said, voice breaking. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on his arms.

Spot watched the mess in front of him. “You gonna tell me anything more?” Jack shook his head, still down. “Okay. Listen, I gotta mop the kitchen and this hall. You can help me or you can sit here, but they ain’t paying me to sit here.” Jack drew in a breath with a shudder, and didn’t move. Spot shook his head and headed for the mop bucket he’d left in the kitchen. He reached up into the cabinet for a small loaf of banana bread and brought it out to Jack. “Banana bread saves souls, evidently,” he said, tossing it on the table in front of Jack. “Eat it or keep it for later.”

Jack stayed at the table, head still down, listening to the slap of the mop in the kitchen. He didn’t have to go back to school if he had the banana bread, he thought. That should save him from Charlie. He couldn’t avoid him forever. And he didn’t want to avoid Kath forever either. Pulitzer was probably right, though. Jack should be independent if he expected Kath to love him. He didn’t stand a chance, not at this rate, anyhow. He should tell her to move on, although his heart constricted at the thought. There would be no one left who loved him. Jack choked a little at the thought, releasing the tears that had built up. He sobbed into his arm, hoping Spot wouldn’t notice, but the tears got bigger and his breaths came faster. When would someone love him? He tried so fucking hard to be loved. Kath had loved him. She had. She’d hate him now, so weak. No job, no apartment. Let some guy break his arm, for fuck’s sake. God, she’d hate him.

Jack’s arm was wet, and his face slipped on it as he kept crying. He used the sleeve of his new shirt to wipe his face and arm, looking up to see if anyone had seen him fall apart. Spot was still in the kitchen. No one else seemed to be around. Pull yourself together, Kelly. Spot probably thinks you’re a raving lunatic. Sniffling quietly, he went to the kitchen. Spot looked up and stopped mopping.

“I aged out. I want to graduate, but I got no place to go. I can’t get a fucking job. I been living in the school. Hiding. And sleeping here. And other places. My girlfriend just found out I ain’t in the apartment I said I was, I think. Those guys fucking broke my arm for not having the rent. She’s gonna hate me. I lied to her. I gotta be independent or her dad won’t let her see me,” Jack rambled. He put his wrist into his eye again and pushed hard. “I got a record. Breaking and entering. Theft, everything. You name it.” 

Spot went back to mopping. “You lost me. You gotta start from the beginning. And when we get to the hall, could you put up the chairs for me as we go?”

Jack started from the beginning. The abuse, the addictions and murder of his father, the prison sentence of his mother, erratic foster care, group homes, and so on and so on. Spot mopped. Jack put up the chairs.

“Jack, listen. You done good, believe it or not,” Spot said, as they went to dump the water. “You need an address? Use mine. I got a roommate on the couch already, but I can get an air mattress from my brother and you can crash with me until you get your own place. I can’t afford to feed you, but I can show you how to use the food pantry so you got something to eat on the weekends. I can get you through until you get that fucking cast off and get a job.”

“I don’t have any money to pay rent.” Had Spot not heard a word he’d said?

“You don’t think I fucking know that? You did just tell me your life story. You’ll pay me back later or I’ll break your other arm,” said Spot. Jack straightened up and gave Spot the once over.

“Kidding, Jack. That was a joke. Relax.” Spot shoved the mop and pail into the closet. “You better get back to school so you can get some lunch, yeah?” Jack nodded. “Okay, then. Come see me after you have your pudding, then. Here’s the address,” he finished, writing it down on a napkin.

Jack took it, folded it up, and put it in his pocket. He looked at Spot. “You don’t even know me,” he said quietly.

Spot snorted. “I know you. You’re one fucked kid. You’re me.”


	13. Finally

Jack carefully put his tray on the table next to Charlie and across from Albert. He took his time getting himself settled. If nothing else, having banana bread in the morning was good for not making a person shove his face into his lunch.

“Why you lying to me, Jack,” Charlie said, not looking at him. “Kath told me you ain’t been at your apartment.”

“I ain’t lying to you,” said Jack, mouth full of taco.

“Yes, you are. You didn’t tell me how you got your arm broke, or where you’re staying now.” Charlie scowled at his lunch.

“Not telling you ain’t the same as lying,” said Jack, trying to get Charlie to smile. “What does it matter, anyhow?”

“I think I oughta know,” Charlie said firmly. He still didn’t look at Jack. “How’d you break your arm?”

Jack sighed. There was no putting Charlie off track when he was like this. “When Pulitzer fired me when I had surgery, I didn’t have rent. Oscar didn’t like that so much. He expressed his dissatisfaction with a baseball bat. That good enough for you?”

“Shit,” said Charlie, finally turning to Jack. “So where you been staying, then?”

“Does it matter?” Jack asked.

“I think I oughta know,” Charlie repeated.

“I’m here, ain’t I? It ain’t important where I been, Charlie. Eat your lunch.” Jack tried to make eye contact with Albert, but no luck.

“You been inside or outside?” Charlie was like one of them little dogs that don’t let go, Jack thought to himself.

“A little of both, okay? Don’t worry about it.” Strike that. Maybe one of them big dogs that don’t let go. “Besides, I got a place now.”

“Kath is worried, Jack. She wants to know what’s going on.” Charlie looked at Jack. “She wonders why you don’t trust her or ask her for help. Wait, you got a place now? Really?”

Jack laughed and looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah. For fuck’s sake, Charlie, I didn’t tell her because I love her! I did it freaking for her!” Charlie gave him a confused look. “Pulitzer wants me to be independent, right? I can’t ask her for help!” Jack shook his head and went back to his lunch. After a minute, Charlie finished his lunch, stood up to go, slapped the back of Jack’s head, and left for class.

Jack watched him go, and looked over at Albert. “What? Ain’t you got anything smart to say?”

Albert glanced at Jack and then back down at his lunch. “What the fuck, man. We’re your best friends. We been in the same fucking foster family.” He picked up his tray, then put it down again. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a twenty, and tossed it at Jack. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re independent.”

Jack finished cleaning up the tables in the library and looked around as he polished off the pudding cups. There were definitely worse places to hide out. He’d have to get Mr. Jacobs to show him how to take the art books home. Home? His stomach squeezed a bit. Spot seemed like a decent guy, but Jack wondered about the roommate. He could always come back here. He’d have to, to steal more paper for his homework.

“Why’d you lie to my dad?” Holy crap, that kid is going to have to stop creeping up on folks, Jack thought. 

“None of your business, Dave. Go back home to your daddy.” Jack double checked that he had his old socks in his pocket.

“You lied to him. After he let you tutor when he wasn’t supposed to.” Dave folded his arms across his chest. Jack tried not to laugh. He’d seen tougher third graders. Romeo could take him.

”Oh, wow. Well, I guess I should nominate him for the Nobel Peace Prize.” Jack rolled his eyes and put the last of the pencils away. He’d have to steal one of those, too. Later.

“If your foster family isn’t giving you enough to eat, you can report it, you know.” Oh, boy, if Dave didn’t shut up now he’d find himself dealing with a lot more than the little baby shove from earlier.

Jack laughed a little and shook his head. “Dave, just shut up about stuff you don’t know nothing about.” Jack went to go around Dave to leave, but Dave moved in his way. “What the fuck. Get outta my way.”

“No. I know what I saw. I’m not stupid. I just want to help.” Dave sure was determined, the stupid asshat.

Jack got up close to Dave and looked up. “Dave, the only reason you don’t have a broken arm too right now is because I like your dad. I’m gonna tell you this just one more time. Shut. Up.”

Dave didn’t move. “Show me your wallet. You said you forgot it last weekend. Show it to me.”

Jack clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to get expelled. As he drew back his hand, he heard footsteps in the hall. “David? You ready to go?? I’ve been waiting!” Mr. Jacobs appeared in the doorway. Jack released his fist and dropped his arm, backing away from Dave. Here we go. Way to blow it, Kelly.

Mayer took in the scene. “David? Did you not understand me the other night?”

“I just wanted to know why he lied to you, Pop,” said David. “It made me mad, after all you’ve done for him.”

“Jack?” Mayer asked.

Jack paused. “I gotta go. Excuse me, Mr. Jacobs.”

Jack blew out his cheeks as he pushed open the door of the school. He had a bit of a hike to Spot’s, but it would give him time to clear his head. Charlie nagging. Albert’s pissed. Dave, well, Jack didn’t care what Dave thought as long as he didn’t have to talk to him again. Jack ran his fingers through his hair.

“Jack! Finally! Over here!” Katherine called. 

Jack froze. How had he forgotten that she would be there? Shit. “Hey, babe!” he called cheerfully. “Thanks for waiting!” He came over and swept her into a long kiss, pressed up against her car. A breath, then more. He couldn’t get enough. How could he have ever decided that sleeping inside was better than this? Lord, he was dumb.

“Jack, we have to talk,” Katherine said finally. Jack closed his eyes. “Why did you lie to me?”

“As I told Charlie, I didn’t lie. Well, not a lot. I just didn’t tell you everything,” Jack said.

“Where have you been staying?” she asked. Jack was surprised she was this calm.

“Around,” he said. “Does it matter?” Jeez, she sounded like Charlie.

“Jack, tell me right now or it’s over. I’m so angry I could scream,” she whispered. Jack swallowed. She really was angry. Why?

“Okay, okay, but don’t go blabbing to no one at the school, yeah? I been sleeping in the school library some nights.” Jack wondered if that would be enough. “I did it so I wouldn’t have to ask you for help. I know your dad wants me to be independent, and I wanted to keep seeing you, so...” he faltered. “I got a place now, you know. Just this morning I got a place.” He tried to look happy, smiling into her face, hoping she would mirror the smile back.

“And the other nights?” she prompted. His smile faded. Really? Like a detective or something.

“Stairwells. Back door to a restaurant. You don’t gotta worry. I done it before, so it was fine...” He drifted to a stop again. He sniffed in a breath.

“It wasn’t fine, Jack. The guys who beat you up, they weren’t Oscar’s friends, were they. They found you outside, didn’t they. Jack, you could’ve been really hurt!” She put her hands on his face. 

He smiled a little. “Kath, you can get hurt inside, too. Don’t make no difference.” He waved his cast. “This happened inside.”

“Another thing you didn’t explain to me! A baseball bat? Jack, you could have been killed!” She searched his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me?”

Jack returned her gaze. “Yeah, I do. I just, I just didn’t want you telling your father that I couldn’t handle things. I’m good, Kath. The cast is a good thing, yeah? Better than having my arm dangle and look weird.” He tried smiling again.

“When you trust someone, you tell them when things aren’t right. You really thought you should be homeless instead of asking me for help? And it was pouring the other night! Where were you?” Katherine asked incredulously.

You tell folks when things aren’t right? He’d never shut up, he thought. He’d figured it out, hadn’t he? That counted as right, didn’t it? He made it to today. That should count for something. Jack shrugged. “Dreaming about you,” he said, smiling again.

“This is what I’m talking about! Changing the subject! Not answering the question. Where were you that night,” Katherine demanded.

“In a super cozy doorway. Lots of time to think about my girl,” he said, starting to wrap his arms around her, coming in for a kiss.

“It’s not funny, Jack! This breaks my heart. Why did you think that was okay? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Katherine started to cry. Great. He still wasn’t good enough. Figures.

Jack took a breath at last and held her hands in his as best he could. “Kath, I did it for you. I did it so I could keep seeing you! What do you want me to say?” He looked up at her face and wiped at her tears with his thumb. “What else was I supposed to do? What did I do wrong, exactly? I don’t know what you want me to say. I’ll say anything. But what did you want me to do? When you don’t got any money, you don’t got tons of choices. I’m sorry I ain’t good enough for you or smart enough to do things right. Is that what you want me to say?”

He was genuinely confused, Katherine realized. She took out a Kleenex and wiped her eyes and her nose. “You’re more than good enough and more than smart enough,” she said, blinking back her remaining tears. “I could have helped, Jack.”

“Oh yeah? How? Your dad would have found out and you know it. And I don’t think you would have helped anyway, to be honest. When you dropped me off before I got my arm broke, you said I should just get something to eat later. With what, Kath? What did you think I was gonna get later? I love you, but sometimes it’s kinda cute how clueless you are. I took care of myself, Kath, so I don’t know what you’re so upset about.”

Katherine felt her temperature rise once again. “Clueless? Whose fault is that? Mine or the guy who won’t tell me anything?”

Jack pressed his lips together. 

“What?” she asked.

“That’s just it. I gotta explain it to you. All of it. No money. ‘Hey, Kath, I have no money. You know what that means?’ It means I can’t buy food or pay rent, Kath, until I can get a job. I can’t get a job without an address. And no place will hire me until my arm is better, as you know, right? I got a hamburger at the soup kitchen on Saturday. And a tiny loaf of banana bread on Sunday. I’m betting you ate more than that Friday night, never mind all weekend, am I right?” Jack looked over her shoulder, across the street. “I should have told you all about it? Why? I ain’t your charity case, Kath. I’m taking care of things. Maybe not the way you want, but I am.” He looked down, tugging at his shirt, straightening his shoulders. He pulled up his jeans.

Katherine was silent for a long moment. “I could have helped,” she repeated. “We could have figured something out. We can still figure something out.” She put her hands on his waist and pulled him in. “You’re not alone, you know,” she said quietly. “You’ve got a friend.”

Jack felt his face flush as let his hips touch hers, and he put his arms over her shoulders. What had he ever done to deserve her. Even a little help would be a relief. Just a little. He thought about Albert’s twenty. How many pudding cups could he buy for twenty bucks? He shook his head. Kath, idiot. You gotta apologize. For real.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a jerk. A homeless, hungry jerk. There’s nothing more I can tell you. I got nothing else to say about me. No secrets anywhere, I swear.”

Katherine shook her head, laughing a little. “But you’re my homeless, hungry jerk. And only a rich, self-centered, clueless snob could ever love such a homeless, hungry jerk.”

Jack kissed her gently. “Am I your friend, too?” he asked, a smile teasing at his lips.

She nodded, eyes crinkling. “If you want to be.” 

“I never wanted anything more in my life,” whispered Jack into her ear, still smiling.


	14. Of Mattresses and Muggings

Jack sighed as he pulled away from Katherine. “I gotta go see my new place,” he said. “Or rather, my new air mattress.”

Katherine raised her eyebrows. “Sounds fancy. I’ll come with you and help you decorate.”

“Hmm... I think you might make the best decoration, actually.” He smiled, breaking into a laugh. “But really, I don’t want you to go just yet. I ain’t keeping a secret, I swear. The guy who’s helping me out has a roommate, and I just want to check him out before taking you there, you know what I mean?” 

“Very chivalrous. Thank you. But I think I should come with you anyway,” she said determinedly. “Make sure we don’t have another Oscar on our hands.” 

Our hands? Jack smiled again. “Kath, it’s a bad neighborhood, and I just want to check this guy out. You can come next time, okay? It ain’t gonna be anything to look at. I promise you can see it soon, okay?”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “Okay. You aren’t my charity case. But if they break your leg, I’m gonna set their apartment on fire, got it?”

Jack looked impressed. “I’ll pass that message on to them. It’ll make for a real warm welcome. Get it?” 

Katherine rolled her eyes again and pushed him away. “Get going.” Jack backed down the sidewalk, giving her a little finger wave with his good hand.

Jack floated down the sidewalk. Don’t get too carried away, Kelly. You gotta meet this roommate. You might be back in the library tomorrow night for all you know. He felt for the napkin Spot had given him, but didn’t dare take it out of his pocket like some lost bastard. About two blocks away, he felt his neck start to prickle. He turned. No one he knew was there. He kept walking. He tried to watch in store windows. No one. Still, he felt weird. About a block away, he felt someone come right up behind him and press into his back.

“Get in the alley, up against the wall, eyes closed,” a voice murmured in his ear, speaking quickly. Jack obeyed as the voice added a hand that was grabbing in his pockets. There went Albert’s twenty. Jack’s old socks fell to the ground. “Don’t turn around. You got two days to get Oscar his money. It’s up to three hundred bucks now. Get it from the pretty girl, maybe.” Jack started to turn but was shoved against the wall face first.

“No money and you’re gonna maybe get hurt again. Or maybe we’ll get the girl.” The voice chuckled. “Just get it. Now, don’t turn around til you counted to twenty. Turn around before then and we’ll find the girl tonight, got it?” Jack felt something press into his back. He nodded. “Good.”

Jack felt a punch in his side, followed by a stinging club to his head. He fell to his knees, holding his head and clutching his side. Dammit.

Jack made it to Spot’s apartment, his head still ringing. He blinked hard and knocked.

Spot opened up. “I thought maybe you changed your mind,” he said. “You still wanna stay here?” Jack nodded dumbly. “Whatsa matter? You okay?” He looked at Jack more closely.

“Someone welcomed me to the neighborhood,” Jack mumbled. “Got me on the head good.”

“Oh. Yeah, well, sorry about that. They get anything?” Spot asked.

“A twenty I just got today,” said Jack ruefully. “He let me keep my old socks.”

“Not much of a market for those, I guess.” Spot looked Jack up and down. “You look okay, though.”

Jack tried to smile and ignore the steady throb in his head. He looked past Spot and saw the stained air mattress already inflated on the floor. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I’ll get out of here as soon as I can.” He saw the roommate on the couch near the mattress. “That your roommate?”

Spot looked over to the couch. “Race! Stop being a dumbass. Wake up! This is Jack, the kid I been telling you about.”

Race propped himself up his elbows. “Hey.”

“Hey,” said Jack.

“Don’t worry about him,” said Spot. “He’s stupid. He won’t hurt you none. Talk about sports and you’ll be good.” Jack could do that.

“Hey, come look here,” Spot continued. He brought Jack over to the air mattress. “Look in the box.” Jack looked at the cardboard box next to the mattress. Inside were the shirt and jeans he had left behind at the church, and the packet of new socks. “I figured you’d want them now that you got a place to stay.”

Jack didn’t move. Then he reached out and gently punched Spot on the arm.

Late that night, as Jack listened to Spot and Race breathe and snore, respectively, he kept his eyes open. He adjusted the extra shirt he’d laid over himself. This place might be okay. He was safe. The sirens and shouting were outside, not in here. Things might get loud if he didn’t get the money for Oscar, though. His hands started to sweat. He’d said no more secrets. But three hundred dollars? What would they do to him? Not anything pretty, he knew. Pretty. They’d threatened Kath. Fuck. He’d have to steal something and sell it. Or steal the money. If he knew anyone with three hundred dollars, he would. No secrets. Could he tell her this? He rolled on his side, adjusting the jeans under his head. 


	15. Truth and Crime

Jack rolled off the mattress and sat up on his knees to take a closer look around the room in the dim light. Race must live out here, he noticed. A couple of bags of clothes, a box of hats from every sports team he could name, and that was about it for him. Race was still sleeping, but Jack nudged him.

“Race, buddy, can I borrow a hat? It’s gonna rain and I ain’t got one.”

Race grunted. 

“Yeah? Or no?” Jack nudged him again. He needed an answer.

“Not the Mets,” Race muttered.

“You got it. Thanks,” said Jack, as he put on his newest shirt from the box over his other two shirts.

Spot came wandering out. “You going to school?”

“Yeah,” said Jack. Not a total lie. “Race said I could take any hat but the Mets.”

Spot nodded. “Don’t mess with his Mets. You need a bag?” He held out a battered backpack, more dirty than clean.

Jack couldn’t believe his luck. “Yeah, thanks! This will be great. Thanks.” He reached out and tested the zipper, which still worked.

“Okay. So, see you later, then,” said Spot. “Here’s a key.” He handed Jack the key on a little keychain. The Met. Jack tried not to look surprised.

“Thanks, Spot. Thanks...” Jack didn’t really know what else to say. He slung the bag over his shoulder and left.

Jack knew they’d be gone by eight-thirty, so he timed his walk so he’d get there around nine. He slipped up the side staircase, went swiftly down the hall, and picked the lock faster than he’d ever picked a lock before. Why had his life not been this charmed when he tried to go straight, he wondered. The backpack unzipped, he found the cash, threw in the PlayStation and games, and swiped her jewelry. He was done and gone in under three minutes. He pitched the hat and shirt three blocks away. He’d owe Race, but not much.

Weisel looked up at him as he unloaded it all onto the counter. “Where’d you get this, Kelly?”

Jack zipped the backpack back up. “My grandma died and left it to me.” He smiled at Weisel, who rolled his eyes.

“Your grandma had a PlayStation?”

“Don’t be so judgy. How much?” Jack looked at him impatiently.

Weisel turned the bracelets and necklaces over in his hands, sorted through the games, and then plugged the PlayStation in. “One seventy-five.” 

Jack took his turn rolling his eyes. “Weisel, come on. Two-fifty. I gotta get to school, man.”

Weisel laughed in his face. “Two-twenty. Final offer. You wouldn’t want to get detention, now, would you. Someone might think you’re a troublemaker.” Jack smiled again and held out his hand. With the cash he’d stolen, he had only twenty-eight dollars to go.

“Where were you first period?” Charlie asked as Jack sat down. Nosy little bastard, thought Jack.

“It took me a while to walk from my new place. It’s nice. You should come see it,” Jack said. “I got two roommates now, but it’s pretty quiet.” He turned his attention to Albert. “You got any more money? I got mugged yesterday.”

Albert looked up. “No shit. The one time you ever had money and you get mugged.”

Jack shrugged. “Eternally fucked, that’s me.”

Albert gave him a look. “I ain’t paying for no booze, Jacky.”

“I need it so’s I don’t get put in the hospital, Albert,” Jack said in a low voice. “Shit, man, I’ll pay you back once I get a job.” He’d owe people money until the day he died at this rate. Which might be sooner than later, but whatever.

“The fuck you will. How much do you need? And who’s putting you in the hospital?” Albert munched his apple slices, giving Jack a skeptical look.

“Twenty-eight. And Oscar Delancey.” Jack tried not to sound desperate, but failed.

“I got five bucks. You still want it?” Albert started digging around in his pants pocket. Jack nodded. Twenty-three to go.

Jack finished up with Romeo and the snacks. Mr. Jacobs was hanging around again, dammit. Spot’s place was nice, but with no food there Jack really wanted to get to the pudding before leaving the school. Dave showed up, looking like he’d rather move the school building down the street brick by brick than be here. What was up, Jack wondered. Trapped again. What did he do now.

Mr. Jacobs caught his eye. “Jack, could I ask you to have a seat with me, please? I want to talk with you and David.” Jack moved over to the table where Mr. Jacobs was sitting, and Dave slowly slothed his way over there too. Fuck. He’d already apologized to both of them. What did he want now? Jack nervously fingered the money in his pocket.

“David has something he’d like to say to you, Jack,” Mr. Jacobs started. Jack rolled his shoulder and got his good hand ready. He’d take Dave out in about two seconds, but sometimes the inexperienced guys surprised you.

David took a breath and finally looked at Jack. “I’m sorry I kept bothering you about the soup kitchen and the pudding, Jack. I should have believed you. I won’t bother you about them again. I hope you come to the kitchen whenever you want to. I apologize for being insensitive and for accusing you of lying.”

Jack tried not to fall out of his chair. He looked at Mr. Jacobs’ serious face. This was for real. Dave was for real. What was he supposed to do, he wondered. “What?” he asked flatly. He didn’t understand.

Dave looked at his father uncertainly. Mr. Jacobs gave him an encouraging look. “I’m sorry,” said David again. “I shouldn’t have accused you of lying. I’m sorry.”

Jack pulled at the end of his cast. So Dave was apologizing. To him. It felt so good, even if it wasn’t right. Jack hadn’t even lifted a finger. He cleared his throat, still looking down. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Mr. Jacobs leaned forward. “But Jack, if there is something you need, just say the word, okay?” Jack smiled to himself. Mr. Jacobs was a nice guy. He meant well. Was he serious, though?

“Um, well, I could use a job. And twenty-three dollars,” he blurted out. “I’ll pay you back.” Mr. Jacobs looked startled. Shit, thought Jack. Like he’s gonna have a job in his back pocket. Or like he’s not gonna have you arrested for mugging him in his own library.

Mr. Jacobs recovered quickly. “I’ll look around for job openings, Jack, gladly. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow? And um,” he twisted in his seat to reach for his wallet, “I’m not sure how much cash I have on me, but let me check.” He opened his wallet and drew out a twenty and a five. “Twenty-three, you said? Do you mind if I ask why that specific amount?”

Jack fingered the roll of bills in his pocket and pulled out two ones without looking. “Rent,” was all he said. He handed Mr. Jacobs the ones and stood up. “Thanks.” The fuck was happening to him today. Money falling from the sky.

He picked up his bag and turned to go. “Um, Mr. Jacobs, Dave was right.” He ducked his head and swallowed. What do you do with people this nice, he wondered. “Thanks for the rent money. I’ll pay you back,” he repeated. David and Mr. Jacobs looked at him, stunned. “See you on Monday. No tutoring tomorrow, right?” They were still silent. “Okay, well, bye.” Why were such nice people like Mr. Jacobs so surprised that he’d lie? 


	16. Let’s Get Physical

How did she taste so good, Jack wondered. He took his time, and so did Katherine, finishing the kiss.

“Kath, babe, can I come to your house later?” he asked. “I got an errand to run and then I can spend a lot of time with you, okay?” 

Katherine looked at him doubtfully. “What kind of errand?”

Jack hadn’t expected questions. Stupid. “A surprise for you. It’ll be good, I promise. See you in a little bit?” 

Katherine looked a little frustrated, but Jack could tell she was coming around. “All right,” she said. “If you’re not at my house in an hour I’m coming looking for you.” Jack smiled and kissed her again.

Jack pounded on the door. “Delancey!” he shouted. “Open up!” He took a breath and looked down the hall to see if anyone was watching. Nope. Just him out here. He pounded again. “Delancey!”

Oscar opened the door. He smiled a little and leaned against the door jamb. “Kelly. Nice cast. You here to get some more bones broke?”

Jack held out his money. “Three hundred. Now leave me alone.” He turned, but Oscar pulled the back of Jack’s shirt.

“Not so fast, Kelly. Don’t be rude. Come inside so you can watch me count it.” Jack turned reluctantly and followed Oscar inside. Oscar sat at the kitchen table and slowly counted out the money as Jack stood in the living area. 

“Well, what do you know. Kelly comes through for once. Nicely done,” said Oscar.

“Great. Now leave me alone,” said Jack, heading for the door.

Oscar leaped up from the table, blocking Jack’s way. “Now, that’s no way to talk to the one guy who saved your ass.” He leaned in. “And you don’t tell me what to do, you little fuck.” He reached for the baseball bat.

Jack saw Oscar move toward the bat. Moving to the balls of his feet, Jack shot his fist out and caught Oscar on the jaw. Oscar reeled back, catching himself in the doorway. He straightened up, smiling. “I see. Little Jacky’s gonna show me he’s a big man, is that it?” He launched himself at Jack, throwing him to the floor. Jack fought, catching Oscar in the jaw again with a satisfying crack. As Oscar pulled his face back front, Jack hit it again. Oscar rolled, moaning, but came back at Jack, punching him in the gut and slamming him against the floor again. Jack gasped, but kept hammering Oscar with his good hand until he felt Oscar go limp. Jack scrambled to his feet, breath heaving, looking at a groaning Oscar on the floor. Jack kicked him, grateful for his boots, until he was satisfied Oscar wasn’t going to get up. Oscar was breathing, though, and his eyes were open.

Jack leaned down and grabbed Oscar by the hair. “Don’t fuck with Jack Kelly,” he said in a low voice, and slammed Oscar’s head to the floor.

Pulitzer eyed the boy standing in front of him. Certainly a different sight than the other week. Jack didn’t say anything after the initial “Mr. Pulitzer, how you doing,” but Pulitzer kept shaking his hand for a moment. Should he ask? A fight, obviously, but Jack seemed unfazed. The cast was dirty and bashed up, his clothes disheveled, his lip split and his eye rapidly swelling. But he seemed almost happy.

“Daddy, Jack and I are going to go out for a while, okay? He said he wanted to show me his new apartment.” At this Jack looked positively triumphant. Katherine took his good, well, non-casted hand and pulled him behind her as she went out the front door. “I’ll be back by curfew.” 

Jack leaned back in the passenger seat. “Let’s park somewhere, Kath, okay? We can go to the apartment later. Ain’t nothing to see there but Spot and Race, and they can wait. Besides, I could use some recovery kisses.”

Katherine pulled over into the back corner of a parking lot. “What happened, baby? You look like you got in a fight or something.”

Jack smiled. “Yeah, I did. But Kath, I won.” He got out and moved to the back seat, Katherine following.

“Who were you fighting with,” she asked, curving up against him, slightly horrified that she had been right. “And why, baby?”

“It don’t matter,” he said, holding up his free hand. “But I need some love. It hurts.” He grinned.

“Well, then, let me see what I can do about that.” Katherine took his hand in one of hers and started kissing the bruised knuckles. Her other hand reached under his shirt, moving higher and higher until Jack ducked and pulled his two shirts off. “That’s better, she said. “Now I can do my work.”

Jack melted. He reached for the blanket and pulled it over them. “Hm, now let’s see if I can do mine,” he said, his smile growing. “Don’t want you getting cold.” He reached for her top and pulled it over her head as Katherine kissed her way up his chest to his lips. “Ooh...babe, too soon. No lip kissing.” He hissed a little, touching the split. “Maybe in a little bit.”

“Not a problem,” she said smiling. “I can think of other places.”

Jack quickly exhaled a little “huh” and reached for her hips, drawing her even closer. “Show me what they are,” he said. Katherine smiled and started kissing his neck, moving down his chest ever so slowly.


	17. Dammit

Jack sat back, arm protectively circled around Kath. He was definitely banged up, but he had won. Won. With a cast, even. Jack kissed the top of Kath’s head. A whole day of his old ways and he came out with the smartest, most beautiful girl he had ever known and loved in his arms. He shook his head a little. 

Katherine rested her head against Jack’s chest. “Jack,” she said quietly, “you can’t tell me that things don’t matter. They do matter, especially if you get hurt.”

Jack slowly tuned in. “I ain’t hurt no more. You fixed me up. I’m fine,” he said, stroking her arm. “It’s the other guy that’s hurt, not me.”

Katherine sighed. “No more secrets, you promised. Why did you fight someone today?”

“Oscar said I owed him money, and so I gave it to him. Then he still wanted to beat the crap out of me, so I taught him not to mess with me,” said Jack with a satisfied smile.

“How did you get money?” Katherine asked. “I thought you didn’t have any.”

Jack shifted a little. “I know how to get it if I have to, Kath. I know a lot of stuff that I probably shouldn’t.”

“You stole it?? Why, Jack? You know you could have asked me. Didn’t we just talk about this kind of thing?” Katherine sat up and turned her face to Jack.

“It’s over with, Kath. I didn’t want to get you involved. He said if I didn’t pay that they’d hurt you. Ain’t no way he gets away with that kind of talk, no matter how I get the money.” Jack gently ran his finger down her cheek. Holy crap, his knuckles were messed up.

“Who did you steal from, Jack?” Katherine persisted. “How much are we talking about?”

Jack grimaced. Kath and Charlie could give lessons in not giving a guy a break. “Three hundred. I stole from people who deserved it, Kath. And, if you have to know every single thing, I stole two hundred and seventy-two dollars, and borrowed the rest.” He looked out the opposite window.

“Who deserved it, Jack?” Katherine couldn’t get him to look at her. “My father? Did you steal from him?” Jack laughed a little, still avoiding her eyes, shaking his head. “From a store?” Jack looked up, still shaking his head a little. “Jack, tell me now.”

Okay. He blew out a breath. “From my last foster family.”

Katherine was speechless, for once. “But Jack, they took you in. You had a record. And they still took you. They didn’t hurt you, either, right? Why would you steal from them?”

Jack kept staring out the window. “Why not? They could have kept me until I was done with high school, but they didn’t. They would have still got money for me. They could have given me a twenty to buy some food, but they didn’t. You remember what they did? They were there when we got home from school, me, Charlie, and Albert, and they already had my bag packed. I mean, I knew I had to get out, but I thought I’d get dinner maybe. Happy birthday. You can leave now. That was it. So yeah, I stole from them, pawned it all, and got the money to Oscar. Then I kicked the shit out of him.”

“But Jack, now you could get arrested! You’re not a kid anymore. They’d put you in the real jail.” Katherine was getting tense, Jack saw. This was exactly why he didn’t want to tell her.

“I ain’t gonna get caught, Kath. I ain’t that stupid,” he said, rubbing his good hand on her shoulder.

“You have to make it right, Jack. You have to,” Katherine repeated.

“Make it right? That’s what I spent all day doing!” Jack almost yelled. “I got the money to Oscar so he wouldn’t hurt you! The people I stole from had it coming! I got a place to stay now, and I told Mr. Jacobs that Dave had been right! What more could I have done?”

“You could have done it without committing a crime and assaulting someone, baby!” Katherine raised her voice.

“Assaulting someone?! Have you seen this?” Jack waved his broken arm. “He had it coming too!” He closed his eyes. “Kath, babe, please. It felt right. Please, baby, try to see how I did it right. No one’s gonna threaten you again.”

Katherine reached for her bra and shirt and started putting them on. “Let’s go see your new apartment.”

Jack opened his eyes. Were they done? Did she agree with him? Somehow he didn’t think so. “Okay. Are you mad at me?”

“Yes and no. I have to meet Spot and see your new place first.” She handed Jack his shirts and he started sorting through the tshirt to find the sleeves. “Then I’ll know.”


	18. Justice?

Jack unlocked the door and opened it so Katherine could go in first. He followed her, nearly bumping into her as she stopped short. He moved to her side and pointed across the room to his mattress. “There it is!” She didn’t move. Jack looked again at his bed and saw the folded jeans pillow, the bare, stained mattress, and the beat up box on the floor holding his socks.

“Check this out, Kath,” he said quickly, moving over to his box and kneeling down, “new socks! Someone at Spot’s church got them for me! Nice, huh?” He held up the package.

She nodded. “Who do those boxes belong to?” she asked, pointing at Race’s boxes.

“Those belong to Race. He sleeps on the couch,” said Jack, looking around. “I guess he ain’t here. He seems okay.” Spot had emerged from his bedroom by the point, and stood in the doorway waiting for Jack. “And this is Spot. He’s the one who gave me a place to stay.”

Katherine walked over and put her arms around a startled Spot. “You’re a wonderful guy, you know that?” she asked.

“If you say so,” he answered, giving Jack a quizzical look. Spot took in Jack’s face and hand and pressed his mouth tight.

“Spot, this is Katherine, my girlfriend,” said Jack sheepishly. “She wanted to see who I’d duped into taking me in.”

Katherine let Spot go. “Spot, could I talk to you for a moment?” she asked.

Spot turned to Jack. “Yes?” Jack looked down and nodded. Spot turned back to Kath. “Right this way,” he said, motioning to the hallway. Jack sat down on his mattress, examining his bruised hand. Kath was gonna do whatever she wanted. He got up to look at his face in the bathroom mirror and sighed. He’d get questions at school, but he could probably just use his mugging story.

Spot and Kath came back in a few minutes later. “Jacky, we gotta talk,” Spot called. “C’mere.” Jack braced himself for yet another eviction. Spot and Kath were standing by the little table in the corner of the room that served as a kitchen.

“You throwing me out, Spot?” Jack asked, trying to act like he didn’t care. He wasn’t sure he was a good actor, though.

“I ain’t throwing you out,” said Spot. “But you gotta listen to me. Listen good. You gotta make it right, what you did today with the stealing. I ain’t saying what they did was good, okay? But I can’t have you here if you’re gonna steal, yeah? You got me? I’m done with trouble. You got a problem like Oscar, you come to me and we’ll figure it out. Got it?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” he said, shooting Kath an angry look. 

“If the cops come looking for you, I ain’t gonna lie,” Spot continued, pointing at Jack.

“Got it,” Jack muttered.

Katherine came over to put her arms around Jack’s neck. “I’ll buy a PlayStation and the games, and I’ll get a credit card gift card, and we’ll get it all delivered tomorrow, okay? We can talk about you paying me back later.”

Great. More paying back. Better that than getting kicked out, Jack reasoned. “Okay,” he said softly.

Katherine looked over at Spot. “He says you did the right thing by beating up Oscar that badly. I disagree, but I have also promised to not bring it up ever again.”

Jack raised his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, gently kissing his lips.

Albert grinned at Jack as Jack and Romeo sat down at the table. “What’s this, train a felon day?” 

“Shaddup, Albert. This is Romeo. He did good in math so he gets to have lunch with his awesome tutor today,” said Jack. Romeo put his tray down next to Jack’s and sat down, watching Albert.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jack said to Romeo. “There’s a reason he ain’t your tutor.”

“Congratulations, Romeo,” said Charlie. “Make sure math is all Jack teaches you, though.” He gave Jack an annoyed look.

“What?” Jack looked back and forth between Charlie and Albert.

“You know what,” said Albert. “How much did you pawn it for?”

Jack smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did Weisel punch you in the face when you asked for too much?” Charlie asked.

Jack shook his head. “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. I had it out with Oscar. And won. I look a hell of lot better than he does, and I ain’t lying this time. I kicked the shit out of him.”

Albert looked impressed. “Nice. And don’t worry, we got you. They showed us the camera recording from the hallway cuz they thought it was you, but we said no way Jacky wears a Red Sox hat, even if he’s robbing a place. No way. And you didn’t take any of my clothes, and God knows you need ‘em. How can you keep wearing that same shirt all the time? It’s fucking ugly.”

“You robbed a place?” Romeo asked, eyes wide.

“Nice going, assholes,” Jack said to Charlie and Albert. “Nah, Romeo, they’re just kidding around, aren’t ya, fellas.” Charlie and Albert smirked but nodded at Romeo.

Jack saw Romeo staring at his bruised hand, but kept quiet. Finally Charlie and Albert finished up and left. Romeo tapped Jack’s arm. Jack bent down his head to listen.

“Didja really beat someone up?” whispered Romeo.

Jack looked him in the eye. “Yeah. But don’t you go around doing shit like that. I ain’t always a real smart guy. Except for math.”

Romeo stared at Jack’s hand again. He tapped Jack’s arm again. Jack bent down again. “Can I show you something?” Romeo asked, still quiet.

“Sure,” Jack answered, watching Romeo. “What’s up?” Romeo pulled up his shirt to show Jack his side. It was covered in bruises. Jack looked at Romeo. “Who the fuck did that, Romeo?”

“Fifth graders,” Romeo whispered. “They said I must be pretty dumb to have a delinktent like you as a tutor.”

“Is that right,” Jack said. “Listen up. I’ll come to your door after school and you show me who these two fuckers are, yeah?” Romeo nodded, eyes big.

Jack waited for Romeo at the elementary school door at the end of the day. Romeo came running out and grabbed Jack’s arm as two bigger kids came rushing out after him. They skidded to a stop when they saw Romeo hiding behind Jack.

Jack grabbed the one kid’s shirt with his fist. “You after Romeo?” The kid didn’t move except to look over at his friend. Jack shook him. “Answer me.”

The kid answered with a gravelly “Yeah.”

“You think Romeo’s dumb, is that it?” The kid shook his head. “I didn’t think so. Anyone who thinks that is pretty fucking stupid himself.” The kid stared at Jack’s black eye.

“You like how I look? Hm? Cuz you are right about one thing. I am a delinquent. I can beat the shit out of you two with my pinky finger. See this?” Jack waved his cast. “I beat a grown man up the other day with one arm. And then I kicked the shit out of him. I can show you how I did it. Would you like that?” The kid started to cry.

“Hey, big man. Aren’t you a big man? Two fifth graders beating up on a little guy like Romeo? Hm?” Jack shook the kid again. He bent down to look the two of them in the face. “You touch Romeo again and I’ll find you. Understand?” The boys nodded, eyes wide. “Now beat it.” The boys took off.

Jack looked down at Romeo. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” said Romeo, a grin growing on his face.

”You wanna come with me to see Mr. Jacobs? I gotta talk to him,” said Jack, pointing to the high school door. Romeo let go of Jack and strode next to him, chest out. Jack shook his head.


	19. Just about to close up the library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is just for you It’s a Wonderful Life fans!

“Hey, Mr. Jacobs, miss me? Sorry I’m late. Me and Romeo had some business to take care of.” Jack grinned down at Romeo, who nodded importantly.

Jack strode further into the library, startled to see both Dave and Katherine in there. Katherine smiled at Jack. “Hi, baby. David let me in so I’d be sure to catch you.” Jack walked over, smiling back, and held her close for a kiss, hand on her cheek. Romeo gawked.

Mr. Jacobs looked up from his desk. He paused, waiting for the kiss to end, and paused again when he finally saw Jack’s face. He blinked at Jack’s hand. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, great,” said Jack. “Hey, so, you said maybe you’d help me get a job?” He tugged at his shirt, straightening up a little.

Mr. Jacobs raised his eyebrows. “Well, yes, the Y said they’d take your application, but I have to say, you might want to wait until this calms down a little,” he said, pointing at and circling his own eye, and then rubbing his finger over the knuckles of his other hand.

Jack grimaced. “I can’t wait that long, Mr. Jacobs. I gotta make some money. Thanks for helping, though. Ready to go, Kath?” He reached for her hand.

“Jack, wait. I’ll still help. We’ll make it work. Can you stay a minute?” Mr. Jacobs asked. Jack stopped and turned around. “You surprised me the other day, saying David was right. You misled me. Why?”

Jack glanced at Katherine and Dave and gave Mr. Jacobs what he hoped looked like an apologetic smile. “I didn’t lie about everything, Mr. Jacobs. Everything probably is fine at the foster home. I just ain’t there anymore. They kicked me out, is all. I just didn’t have a lot of money. Things were a little tight, y’know? So, yeah, I, uh, went to places and started tutoring here. Which was cool. Tutoring’s cool.” Jack could feel Romeo watching him. “I just, you know, need a job so’s I don’t gotta do those things again, like Dave told you about.” His face started to turn red. Romeo kept listening.

“You could have told me, Jack,” Mr. Jacobs said.

Jack looked at the floor. “Yeah, sure.” Romeo looked up at him, looking a little confused. Could Romeo just quit watching him for one second.

Mr. Jacobs looked from Jack to Romeo and back again. “David, would you mind walking Romeo home? You can text Katherine to let you in again when you get back.”

David held his hand out to Romeo. “Want to?” he asked. Romeo nodded and took his hand as they headed for the door. Romeo waved goodbye to Katherine, eyes sparkling.

“She’s my girl, Romeo,” Jack called. “Remember that.”

Mr. Jacobs waited until they were gone. “Jack. How are you eating these days? The truth.”

Jack’s face flushed as he looked at Mayer and then Katherine. “I get lunch here. And the pudding, you know. It’s fine. My new, um, roommate is gonna help me use the food pantry this weekend.” Jack’s voice was so low Mr. Jacobs could barely hear him. Jack looked away. 

Mayer brought out a bag from behind his desk. “I thought maybe this would help. You can get a bag every Friday from me. And I’ll see if I can get a bigger budget for the tutoring snacks, maybe add some fruit and a sandwich for kids who want one.” 

Jack stared at the bag, jolted back almost ten years. His hearing dimmed. He was the oldest, and Christmas vacation sucked, as usual. The other kids were crying. There was no heat. He’d slipped his falling apart sneakers over his bare feet and gone to the neighboring house. They’d pretended not to see the belt marks on his arms, but they had given him a bag of food. His foster mom and dad came home in the middle of the night and saw the open cans in the kitchen. Jack had to wake the other kids up so they could watch him get a whipping. Again. Buckle end, this time. His foster mom watched too, smoking a cigarette.

“Jack?” Mr. Jacobs asked. “Is something the matter?”

Jack snapped back. “Yeah, um, thanks, but I’m good. I’ll get stuff at the pantry.”

Mr. Jacobs looked disappointed, but continued. “Who is this new roommate? Where are you living, then?”

“This guy I met. Spot. He’s good. He, uh, got me an air mattress. It’s good.” Jack stammered. “I got a place to stay now.”

“Now?” Mr. Jacobs looked at Jack with concern. “What do you mean, now? Didn’t you have a place before?”

Jack wished he could just go beat someone up. He was good at that. All these folks getting in his business.

He felt Kath rub his hand. “Tell him, Jack,” she said gently. Jack looked at Mr. Jacobs and then looked away again. He’d get arrested if he told. Breaking and entering. No thanks. Hands gripping the bars, begging the warden and the guards to stop. Jack shook his head.

“Tell me what, Jack,” Mr. Jacobs asked.

Jack shook his head again. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Thanks for trying to help. I want to get that job, though. I owe you money.”

“Jack stayed here, Mr. Jacobs. In your library,” said Katherine boldly. 

Mr. Jacobs took a step back, stunned. “Here? Overnight?” he paused. “Jack?”

Jack glowered at Katherine. Put her in solitary with no food, see how she likes it. He walked to the back of the library, Mr. Jacobs following. “Here, okay? I stayed here,” he said angrily, pointing to the floor in the corner. “It was nice. I didn’t mean nothing by it. You can call the cops now.”

Mr. Jacobs stood and looked where Jack was pointing. “The damp carpet. That was you?” he asked quietly.

“I washed my clothes in the sink, yeah. I wore them overnight so they’d dry faster.” Jack ran his wrist under his nose and sniffed. When was Mr. Jacobs going to call the cops.

Mr. Jacobs was silent. He was silent for so long Jack finally looked at him. Mr. Jacobs was crying? “Here. And I never saw it. Right under my nose. I’m an educator.” Mr. Jacobs wiped his face.

Jack gave Katherine an uncomfortable look. She squeezed his hand and smiled. Yow, girl, that hurt. Damn. His hand throbbed. He smiled at her.

“Jack, I’m sorry,” said Mr. Jacobs. “I should have noticed. I should have paid attention.”

Jack shifted his feet. “It’s fine, Mr. Jacobs. You got a lot to think about. And I played you. I’m good at that. Sorry. You got a nice library, though. Um, actually, could I take some of those books home?” he asked, pointing at the art books.

Mr. Jacobs let out a surprised laugh. “Of course! Well, I guess I should be grateful for that outcome, right?” He led the way back to the front of the library, Jack following with his books.

Katherine picked up the bag of food. “Jack wants this bag, Mr. Jacobs. He just doesn’t know it yet.” She batted her eyes at Jack, who couldn’t help himself from laughing a little. Mr. Jacobs looked up from checking out the books and smiled at Katherine.


	20. It was wrapping up so nicely

“Kath, you heard me say I didn’t want the bag,” Jack said irritatedly as Katherine pulled out into the street.

“I know, tough guy, but you have to eat. You can share it with Spot and Race. You can’t give it back, you know. I don’t think Mr. Jacobs is a beef jerky and canned chili kind of guy. Ew.” Katherine shuddered.

“Beef jerky? Are you serious?” Jack yanked the bag open and dug through until he found some and ripped it open. “Mr. Jacobs is the best.” He stuffed the jerky in his mouth and tilted his head back against the headrest in ecstasy. “This stuff is awesome. It was one of the first things I ever stole, Kath. The owner caught me, but then he let me have it. Nice, right?”

He rolled his head toward Katherine. Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that out loud. He hoped she wouldn’t say anything. The owner had pulled on Jack’s tshirt and had seen some of his back. The owner had stopped, let go, raised his hand at Jack, and said, “God bless. Next time just ask.” Jack hadn’t known what he meant, but he took off into the night while he had the chance. 

Katherine kept driving. “So, you don’t want the bag of food, but you love it that it has beef jerky because it reminds you of your foray into criminal activity?”

Jack rolled his head back front. “Yeah. I guess. I was a little kid, Kath. It tasted good. And it still tastes good.”

Jack found the apartment door unlocked, and heard familiar voices coming from inside. Well, Albert and Charlie sure looked at home chatting it up with Race, didn’t they. “Hey, fellas,” said Jack. “Um, what’re you doing here?”

Albert sat up and put his arms on his knees, sitting on the end of Jack’s mattress. Charlie turned from his place on the couch with Race. “Just wanted to give you some good news, Jack,” said Charlie, smiling broadly. “The new PlayStation is awesome. And, like, every game? Seriously? The folks are happy with the cash, too. No charges, but they said don’t pull shit like that again.”

Jack grunted. “Fine. Thank Kath. Not my idea.”

Albert pushed himself up and stood in front of Jack’s mattress. “We brung you something, too,” he said proudly. He held out his hand to Charlie. “Give it here.”

“No, I want to give it to him,” said Charlie, moving in front of the bag on the couch.

“Give it here, punk, or you’ll have two gimp legs,” said Albert crossly.

“Fight me,” said Charlie, grabbing his crutch, getting up, and moving in close to Albert.

Jack looked at Race and walked around to the back of the couch. Race handed Jack the bag. The pillow and blanket from his old bed at their home? The hell?

“They’ll never miss them,” said Albert proudly. “We knew you didn’t have none.” Jack looked at Katherine. She covered her eyes and looked down, shaking her head, trying not to laugh.

“Thanks, fellas,” said Jack. “You’re the best.”

Out in the hallway, Jack held Katherine close around the waist. “You sure you have to go? We can make love on my mattress, now that I got one,” he grinned.

“Tempting,” she smiled back. “But does Race want to see that?”

“I got a blanket, remember. He’d never know.” Jack pulled her hips in even closer. “We could share some chili with him when we’re done, like you said.”

“Pass. But thanks.” Katherine kissed him slowly. “See you tomorrow? At our bench?”

Jack nodded as he came for another kiss. “Mmmm.” He watched Katherine actually sashay down the hall and the steps. Sighing, he turned back to the apartment. Chili. He could have dinner tonight, for real. Sweet. He wasn’t sure how Spot felt about him using his kitchen stuff though, and it would be a while before Spot got back from staffing the wedding rehearsal.

“Race, do you guys got a can opener?” he asked. He hoped Race would say something if Jack wasn’t allowed to use Spot’s stuff.

“Yeah, somewhere.” Race concentrated on his phone. “Look around.” Jack looked. There were only a couple of drawers, but no can opener. Time for the spoon, Jack guessed. He found a spoon and made it work as his McGyver can opener. Jack was eternally grateful to the one foster brother who had showed him that trick. Can open, Jack ate it all, standing in the kitchen corner, thanking his lucky stars that Kath had made him take Mr. Jacobs’ bag.

The next morning, Jack still felt full. He laid on his mattress, enjoying the feeling. Kath. He needed to get going. A quick shower, casted arm hanging out into the bathroom. He changed out his jeans, put on fresh socks, and headed out, smoothing his hair with his fingers. Jack sailed down the sidewalk, wanting to smile at people but not daring, not in this neighborhood. He really should see what he could do about getting a second tshirt, he thought. He’d work on that job application on Monday for sure.

He woke up in the semi-dark, arms tied behind him as he slumped in a chair.

“Finally,” a familiar voice said. “Now we can get to work.” Oscar leaned closer. “You are well and truly fucked now, Kelly.”


	21. Jack’s demons. And Oscar.

“Don’t worry, Jacky,” said Oscar. “You ain’t gonna be here forever. You got work to do.”

Jack focused his eyes. Some guys, a blackjack? His head hurt, so yeah, maybe. Oscar’s apartment. Was Oscar stupid? Kath would be here with the Marines in no time. Jack allowed himself a smirk. 

“You just have to do one little favor for me, Jack,” Oscar continued. “Lucky for you, working for me is a part-time gig.”

“Work for you?” Jack rasped. “Fuck you, Delancey.”

Oscar pulled Jack’s head back and got close. “I had to go to the fucking ER after our last meeting, Kelly. The police have a report on file. I couldn’t remember your name exactly, but if I happen to remember who fucked with me all I have to do is call them.”

“Go ahead,” Jack said. Mmm..hmmm, Oscar’s grip hurt. “You can’t prove nothing.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Oscar. “But I would enjoy watching them poke around in your, ah, extracurricular activities of the past couple of years. Not exactly student of the month, am I right?” He pushed Jack’s head down. 

“What do you want,” Jack asked, trying to adjust his shoulders.

“I was just thinking that as good as you are as getting the shit kicked out of you, and kicking the shit out of other people, you should do that for me. Then I wasn’t going to ask you to do that, because you’re such an asshole. But then you threatened my nephew, man. Shit. What kind of stupid fuck are you to do that, hm?” Oscar ended his question by punching Jack in the side.

Jack heaved, trying to regain his breath. “Your nephew? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“My nephew Oscar. How many folks do you know still have Oscars, hm? You knew he was my family, you little shit. You’re a little old to be threatening fifth graders, don’t ya think? My sister’s pissed, man.” Oscar punched Jack in the side again. Jack strained forward as far as he could go, gasping, blinking hard.

“I didn’t know,” Jack wheezed. “I swear. But your nephew is an asshole anyway.” This got him a punch in the throat.

“Fuck you. Anyway, you got work to do. You listening? Hey, you listening?” Oscar grabbed Jack’s hair again. “I’m going easy on you for a reason.” Jack nodded a little, choking for air. “You’re good at beating people up, yeah? So here’s how it goes. Me and some friends take you with us to someone who owes me some money. You convince him to hand it over. That’s it. Got it?” Jack blinked a yes to show he understood. “You don’t get the money, we’ll have baseball practice. You get the money, we’re even and you might even get something you like.”

Jack swallowed. Kicking Oscar around was one thing. But a stranger? He heard footsteps behind him and felt his arms released. Two guys framed him as they went down to Oscar’s car, where Jack was forced into the middle of the back seat, between them. Jack knew he wasn’t the biggest guy around, but these two were ridiculous. Jack watched the blocks pass by, wondering what Kath was doing. Surely she’d have gotten Spot, or Race, by now. To do what, exactly.

“You know, it’s a real small world we live in, Jacky,” Oscar started. “Real small. I know you, I know lots of people. We like the same things, don’t we, Kelly. We like money. You’re gonna like this job. I made sure of it. I want you to be happy, you know, working for me.” He grinned at Jack in the rear view mirror. “Look familiar?”

Jack looked out the window more carefully. He knew this neighborhood. He knew it. He saw the school. He knew his way home. What was he, eleven? Twelve? Thirteen? He couldn’t remember. A longer stay than usual... The little house was getting closer. His breath shortened. Not this house. Are you fucking kidding me. It was getting dark, but it was the house. The work. Always the work. You’re up until it’s done. Don’t be such a sissy wimp. Take it like a man. Jack shook his head as he was dragged from the car.

“You go around back so when he runs you catch him, got it?” Jack nodded. “He gets away, use this.” A pipe was shoved in his hand. Holy fuck, no way. Jack tried to shove it back. “Take it, asshole.” Oscar moved back to the driver’s seat and waved his gun at Jack. “Get moving.” Jack crept around the side of the house and eyed the back door. It couldn’t be the same guy. A new family lived here, for sure, right?

Jack heard the front door slam open, and shouting. Furniture scraped around, and Jack saw a man run toward the back door. He braced himself, saw the door fling open wide, and took down the man who was flying out of the house. Jack pinned him, using his pipe on the man’s arms and chest before seeing his face. It was him. Jack had tracked in some mud. His shirt was ripped off. His shoes. Three days of no food, standing, watching all of them eat. Three days of getting beat. Three nights locked out. Kneeling and begging to come back in.

Jack looked the man in the face. “Pay,” he snarled. The man spat at Jack. Jack smashed his pipe into his ribs. “Pay,” he repeated.

The man groaned in pain. “The cereal boxes. In there.” Jack smashed him again.

“That’s good,” said one of Oscar’s associates. “Stop.” Jack looked up, breathing hard. He stood up, still gripping his pipe, and spat on the man on the ground. Jack walked out front to Oscar’s car and got in. Oscar’s friends soon followed, grinning and waving the money.

“You did good, Jacky,” smiled Oscar. “Here, I hear you like this stuff.” He handed Jack a full Hennessy bottle, already open.

Jack took it, his head still clearing. Oh, he loved this stuff. Loved. It. Made a beating go away so fast. Made you warm. No. No. He held still. No. Stay on that wagon, Kelly. You’re doing good.

“Go on, you earned it. We’re even,” said Oscar, weaving through traffic. A bump in the street made Jack splash some on himself. The smell. He licked his good arm. Lord. He lifted the bottle and took a long swig. Letting the first swallow sink in, he relaxed and took another drink. He was even with Oscar. He could celebrate. Oscar smiled.


	22. Boozy

Oscar pulled up to Spot’s apartment. “You want more of that, Jacky, I got it,” he said, putting his arm behind the passenger seat and turning to look at Jack. “There’s lots more where that came from. And here’s a twenty.”

Jack grabbed the money, took another long swallow and held the bottle out to Oscar. “Keep it,” said Oscar. “Let me know when you need a refill.” Jack smiled a little and drank again. Oscar pointed his chin to the door, and Jack soon found himself deposited on the sidewalk with his bottle. Oscar wasn’t so bad. Jack had cheated him, after all. Nice of him to let him do the honor of beating the crap out of his old foster dad. That was sweet. Very sweet. Jack drank again. Oh, yes, that helped. He remembered the whipping that had left him on the kitchen floor, unconscious. He’d woken up late that night. Silence... he’d found a bottle of something. It had helped then too. It got him to that nice lady’s apartment for a while, anyway. Jack pulled at the collar of his torn tshirt and looked at the door to Spot’s apartment building. Spot was a good guy, yes he was.

Jack staggered in, still holding his bottle, pleasantly surprised to see Spot, Race, Albert, and Charlie all there. “Gang’s all here!” Jack declared happily. “What’s the plan? Where’s Kath?”

Albert turned away. Charlie turned with him, putting his arm around Albert’s shoulders. Race and Spot took Jack by the arm and led him back into Spot’s bedroom.

“Jack, you’re drunk,” said Spot. “Give me the bottle, please.”

Well, aren’t we fancy. Please. Please, Jack. Jack laughed in Spot’s face. “It would be my pleasure, your highness,” he said, handing the bottle over very deliberately. “Except let me get one more,” he said, taking the bottle away at the last second and draining it. “There you go, Miss Manners,” he smiled at Spot and handed him the bottle.

“Where you been, kid,” asked Race. “Nobody seen you all day. Katherine’s ready to call the police.”

Kath. “Where is my beautiful, beautiful girl?” Jack asked, turning around and peering into the corners of the room. 

“At home, Jack. We said we’d call her the minute we knew anything about you,” said Spot. “Where’d you get this?” he asked, holding up the bottle.

“Oscar,” said Jack, smiling. “I helped him out, he helped me out. My buddy.” 

Spot frowned. “Helped him out? I thought I said no more stealing.”

“I didn’t! I didn’t!” Jack said, hands up. “I was good. Except for beating the crap out of a bastard. But he totally deserved it, Spotty. I was good,” he rambled.

“Time to get you to bed,” said Spot. “I can’t talk to you like this.” He opened the bedroom door. “Charlie, Albert, let Race take you to the station. I’ll text you tomorrow.” Albert stalked out without another word, Charlie close behind with Race.

Spot went to the sink and filled a glass with water. “Drink this, please,” he said, handing it to Jack. Jack drank.

Spot pointed at the mattress. “Now, lie down and don’t get up until tomorrow. You won’t want to get up tomorrow, either, but we’ll get there. And stop talking.”

Rude. “How about a ‘please’? I thought we were being fancy tonight,” he mumbled. “Oh! And here,” he said, shoving the twenty at Spot, “you get this. My first rent payment. Pretty good, right? Take it!” Spot took it and put it on the kitchen table. He pointed at the mattress. Jack frowned and sat down.

“Boots off,” said Spot. Jack pulled them off. “Lie down.” Jack threw himself backwards. Spot tossed him his blanket and turned off the light, leaving the little kitchen lamp on. “Shut up.” Jack scowled, but obeyed. Spot sat at the kitchen table and watched Jack lie there. He stayed until Jack fell asleep.

Spot had been right. Jack did not want to get up in the morning. Finally he sat up, though, feeling someone watching him. Race sat at the table.

“Spot’s at work. He said to make sure you ate this,” Race screamed at him, pointing at the plate of plain toast. “You better eat it.”

Jack rubbed his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. Ugh, the one still hurt. What the fuck had happened. Why was Race screaming. He hadn’t felt like this in ages. He rolled to his knees and stood up slowly. “Okay, okay. Quit screaming.”

Race grinned. “Yeah, okay. I’ll quit screaming. Eat. And drink the water, too.”

Jack ate, slowly. “I was pretty drunk, wasn’t I,” he asked Race.

“You could say that,” said Race.

“Did I do anything bad?” Jack ate faster. The toast was better than he thought it would be.

“You might have,” said Race. “You said something about beating the crap out of some bastard.”

Jack paused, then his eyes widened. Shit. “I think I did.”

“Then yeah, I think you did something bad last night.”

“Oscar got me. My old foster dad owed him money, so he let me go get it,” Jack remembered. “I did. Oscar was happy, so he gave me some Henny.”

Race’s expression didn’t change. “You know that ain’t right, don’t you? You want to get on your feet, you stay away from crap like him, yeah? And the booze, too. Obviously you can’t handle it that great.”

Jack nodded. His head weighed five hundred pounds. “Yeah.” He drank the water. Jack Kelly Fucked Up Again, his daily headline said. He traced Romeo’s name on his cast. Fuck.

He put his head down on the table. “I fucked up, Race.”

“Yeah, you did,” said Race. “Have some more water. Get yourself cleaned up, too. Kath texted me. She’ll be here after she has lunch with her dad.” Jack turned his face so he could see Race. He wasn’t kidding. Jack dragged himself away from the table and headed for the shower.


	23. Jack Gets It

“What did I say about trouble, Jack?” asked Spot, frustrated.

“You said no stealing. I ain’t stole nothing. You didn’t have no trouble with me beating the crap out of Oscar, so what’s the problem now? That asshole deserved it more than Oscar did!” Jack yelled. Spot pressed his lips together, ignoring Katherine’s pointed look.

“Yeah, but you can’t keep going around doing that stuff, Jack,” said Spot. “I didn’t mean you should do it on the regular. Sometime it’ll catch up to you and you’ll get arrested.”

“I told you, Oscar made me! Are you listening to me at all? It’s not like he gave me much of a choice. You want I should get my other arm broke, or my legs, or my head busted open?” Jack yelled again, waving his cast at Spot.

Spot conceded, hands up. “Okay. But you didn’t have to drink. You knew better.”

Jack looked angrily at Spot and then at Kath. “I been good for a long time. I made one mistake. It’s not like I got the money to go out and get more, anyway.”

“No,” said Katherine, “but what if Oscar comes back and gives it to you so you do more of his dirty work? He wants you to drink more, Jack!”

“I won’t. He said we’re even. I’ll say no,” said Jack, lifting his chin. “I’m gonna get a job soon, anyway, so I won’t need him.”

Spot cleared his throat. “Jack, I’m gonna be honest with you. Hear me out. Oscar’s got a bead on you right now. He’s gonna keep coming for you and giving you booze and money now that he’s seen you’re addicted, and he knows you got a mean streak and ain’t afraid of it. We gotta keep someone with you until he gives up, okay? That means after tutoring and on weekends you gotta get to the church and stay with me until I’m done and we can go home. Once you get a job, then we’ll see what we have to do, but for the next while, you gotta do this for me. I bet between Kath and Mr. Jacobs we can get you from the school to the church without Oscar touching you.”

Jack looked down, deflated. Spot didn’t believe in him. Do it for Spot? What did that mean? But Spot still wasn’t kicking him out, so there was that. But Oscar had the money and the booze. Jack allowed himself to remember the first swallow, so glorious as it ran into his system, bringing his body back to life. And twenty bucks for five minutes of work? Yes, please. But it wasn’t like Oscar would let him stay rent free, he thought, picking at his cast. Oscar hadn’t given him a mattress, either. Or let him use a towel. Or a spoon. Or made him toast. Spot never hit him with a baseball bat.

Jack looked back up a Spot. “Why you doing all this for me?” he asked, sounding younger than he wanted to.

“I told you, Jack. I was you. And in a year or so, Albert and Charlie are gonna be in the same spot as you, yeah? So we gotta be ready, you and me and Race. We gotta get you going right so you can help me with them.” Spot looked Jack in the eye. “We gotta get your shit together for them, Jack.”

Jack sat thunderstruck.

Jack looked at his homework spread out on the table in the church hall. It wasn’t so bad, getting caught up. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, he snorted to himself. He looked across the table at Kath. “Psst...” he whispered. “I finished my English. How about a kiss?”

Kath looked up from her book. “How did you like the happy ending?” she asked. 

“Oh, nice try, smarty. Even dumb Jack Kelly knows Hamlet is a tragedy.” He leaned on his elbows over the table, lips puckered, eyes closed. Kath leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey! I don’t get more than that?!” he pouted.

“You’re still a week behind. Get to work,” she said, trying not to laugh.

The church door buzzer sounded. “Coming!” Jack and Katherine heard Spot shout. They heard him go to the door and open it up as Jack went back to his homework. Spot’s voice got louder. Kath tapped Jack’s cast, motioning for him to stay quiet and listen. 

“Get lost. You ain’t got no business here,” said Spot.

“That ain’t no Christian attitude.” Jack recognized the voice of one of Spot’s thugs. “I’m here to talk to the preacher.”

Spot paused. “You wait here. I’ll go get her and if she’s free I’ll let you in.” Spot shut the door, leaving the man on the sidewalk, and went to the pastor’s office. Jack and Kath could hear muffled voices, Spot’s getting louder again. They heard both Spot and the pastor walk to the door. Spot opened it and they stepped outside, with Spot latching the door behind them. It wasn’t long before they heard Spot unlocking the front door to let himself and the pastor back in. Jack and Kath got up at the same time and headed to the entryway as the pastor headed back to her office.

Spot saw them coming and gestured for them to come over. “She wanted to see for herself. Oscar’s still trying, Jack. That guy had a wad of cash in his pocket for you.” Jack knew he should be grateful to Spot, but would it be so bad if he did one little job? Spot could use the money, for sure. “And don’t go thinking that one more job wouldn’t be so bad, Jacky. I know exactly what you’re thinking. We’re fine. I’m fine. Do your homework.”

*****************

Jack dumped the last of the basketballs into the bin at the Y and started walking through the bleachers to check for trash before they closed up. Kath would be waiting soon to take him home. Well, maybe they’d stop first? He’d have to see. 

He gathered up the bottles, emptied them in the kitchen sink, and threw them in recycling, careful not to spill on his YMCA work shirt. He took the papers and wrappers to the trash. People were such slobs. As he went down the hall to the office to clock out, a man came out of the locker room. 

“Hey,” he said, “you Kelly?”

Jack paused and then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Come with me. I got something you want. I hear it’s your favorite.”

“I gotta finish work,” said Jack, gesturing toward nothing in particular. “And clock out. And I gotta check in with my boss before I go.”

The man wasn’t happy. Jack guessed this guy was about four inches taller and seventy-five pounds heavier than he was. Shit. Jack ducked into his boss’s office, closed the door, and called Kath’s cell. Voice mail. She must be still be driving. “Kath? I got trouble. I’m gonna ask my boss to walk me to your car, okay? I just didn’t want to surprise you.”

Jack looked toward the front desk through the window blinds, but didn’t see his boss standing there as he usually did. That other guy was still standing there. Jack waited as long as he dared, clocked out, and finally went out into the main hall.

“Boss? We closing up?” Jack shouted down the hall. No answer. “Martin?” No sign of the security guy either.

The big guy smirked at Jack. “Looks like they closed up without you.” Jack knew this would never happen. No way. “You’re coming with me, anyhow. I heard you clock out in there.”

Jack looked down the hall again, desperate for any sign. “I gotta go look,” he said.

“Fine. I’ll come with you,” said the big guy.

“Uh, no. You’re not allowed in here anyway. We’re closed,” said Jack, backing away, wondering if he could outrun this guy. It didn’t look like it.

“Bullshit.” The guy grabbed for Jack, getting his wrist and yanking him toward the door. Jack lost his balance and stumbled into him, but decided to fall completely to the floor, hoping not to break his arm again. Jack felt another hand on his other arm as he was hustled out to a car in the parking lot. He fought, dragging his feet and twisting his body. Oh, Spot would be pissed. Slammed into the car and then shoved in the back seat, he found himself in the same sandwich he’d been in before, but already holding an open bottle.

Jack held the bottle and looked at the guys next to him and in the driver’s seat. No one spoke. He had to help Spot with Albert and Charlie. He had to look Romeo in the eye like Spot did with him. He had to get out, and get out now. Fuck, this would hurt. Jack held up the bottle and turned it upside down, pouring it all out in the back seat, all over his legs and the legs of the guys on either side of him.

“What the fuck, you little shit!” Jack was dragged from the car and thrown to the pavement. One of them had that fucking pipe. Jack shielded his head and prayed someone would help him. He heard shouts, his head exploding, tires squealing, his blood dripping. He didn’t hear much after that.


	24. The end

May

“Spot!” Jack shouted toward the bedroom. “I put half my check in your jar. I gotta go to school.”

“Yeah, good,” came the reply. Spot emerged, hopping on one foot as he got his sock on the other.

“You think I’m good to go on my own, Dad?” Jack asked. “How do I look?”

Spot looked him up and down. “No one’s gonna fuck with you, Kelly. You feeling good?”

“Yeah.”

“Albert and Charlie coming over tonight?” Race asked, flipping the blanket down from his face.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Albert said to get onions on the pizza or he’s not coming.”

“Nice. Tell him he better bring the soda or he ain’t invited.” Race grinned at Jack. “You ready?”

“To tell them? Yeah,” Jack half smiled back. “Hell, if we can’t get ‘em through high school, no one can. Charlie’s eighteen in December already. You sure you want more campers, Spot?”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.” Spot got his other sock on. “Nobody will be harder than you, that’s for damn fucking sure.”

Romeo ran into the library on the last day of tutoring, holding a piece of paper. “Jack! Look!” he shoved the paper at Jack, beaming. “I got an A on my last math test! That’s three tests in a row I got A’s!”

Jack’s face lit up. “Wow! Come here!” He lifted Romeo up and put him on his shoulders, holding on to one of Romeo’s little knees. Romeo gripped his hands under Jack’s chin. “Mr. Jacobs, can I take him up and down the hall?” Mr. Jacobs waved his approval from across the room. Jack and Romeo marched up and down the hall, going into the classrooms and offices when the teachers were still there, to brag to everyone they saw. And then they did it again.

Jack waved goodbye to Romeo and turned to Mr. Jacobs. “I got your money, Mr. Jacobs. I finally got Albert and Kath paid back and now I got some of your money. Here it is, twenty-three. I’ll pay you back for the Friday bags, too, but I ain’t got it yet.” He held out the money.

Mr. Jacobs shook his head. “Keep it. I don’t want it. And I’ll still give you Friday bags over the summer.”

“I’m good now, I think. But thanks. You gotta take the money, Mr. Jacobs. I don’t want to owe you nothing.” Jack kept his hand out. “I’ll bring the rest in the fall, unless you want me to bring it to you this summer.”

Mr. Jacobs sighed and took the money. “The fall is fine. I hope you forget about it by then, too. But I’ll miss you next year as a tutor, you know.”

“Gotta pass summer school first. Romeo will be fine without me,” Jack said. “He’s tons better than he used to be. He promised to be on the flag football team I’m coaching at the Y this fall.”

“Romeo won’t be here for tutoring, he’s improved so much. But there are other Romeos out there, Jack, remember that,” replied Mr. Jacobs. 

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I know. I know all about that.” 

Dr. Schmidt put Jack’s eye patch back on. “Looking good, Jack,” he said. “You’re healing well. Someday maybe we’ll see about a prosthetic eye, okay? How’s the arm feeling?” 

Jack wriggled his fingers. “It’s good I didn’t break the same arm, I guess, but it still sucks. At least I still got a job.” 

“You hang in there. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse, but I know you know that.” Dr. Schmidt shook Jack’s hand and clapped him on the back. Jack put on his backpack and left.

Katherine met him outside. “Ready for our date?” Jack asked. “It’s about time I treated you.” He smiled at her and kissed her hand. “I really been wanting to do this for a long time.”

Katherine linked her arm through his. “I am looking forward to being completely pampered. Lead the way, sir.”

Jack switched around to her other side. “There. Now I can see you. This ain’t no blind date, you know.” Oh, he loved how she rolled her eyes. “Check me out. I can’t ever think your jokes are that bad. I only got one eye to roll.” Kath burst out laughing, which set Jack off laughing too as they entered the park.

“Here we are, miss,” said Jack. “Please have a seat.”

“Oh my,” Katherine said as she settled down carefully, “a park bench all to ourselves? However did you manage it?”

“I got connections, darling,” said Jack. He pulled out two sandwiches from his backpack, two apples, and two cans of soda. “Ta da.” He took out a dishtowel from his backpack and laid it over his new cast. “We serve peanut butter sandwiches here. Jam is too damn expensive. Now, may I take your order?”

“Hm...” said Katherine, surveying her choices. “I’ll take a cheap peanut butter sandwich and an apple, please. And what are my beverage choices?”

“Let me check with my staff.” Jack looked at the pigeons and pretended to listen to them. “They said we have generic orange soda and generic ginger ale.”

“Ginger ale, please. No name brands—those are disgusting. And only in a warm can. I can’t stand it any other way.” Kath pointed her finger at Jack.

“Of course, miss.” Jack popped open the ginger ale can and put it next to her on the bench. “Your can.” He handed her a sandwich and an apple. “Your other stuff.”

Katherine sat back and laid her arm along the back of the bench. Jack reached his arm out and stroked her hair before moving closer, sandwich in his new good hand. “Good?” he asked.

“The best,” she smiled.

“Kath, the last couple of months,” Jack started. “I’m sorry. It’s been bad. A lot of girls probably would’ve dumped me. I just wanna, you know, say thanks. I’d be in jail without you. But now you traded in a homeless, hungry jerk for a one-eyed jerk with no money who can’t stop breaking his arms.”

Katherine bit into her apple and touched Jack’s face. “Baby, I’m the one that should be sorry. It’s my dad that could’ve helped you, but didn’t. I just felt so helpless sometimes. And other times I didn’t know what was going on, and I wanted to know...” she drifted off.

“It’ll keep getting better, I promise. I told you the Y said they might have a full-time job soon, right? And if I can just graduate by August, I’ll be okay,” Jack said, rubbing his thumb on her cheek. “Or I’ll get a job on a pirate ship, and you can come along. We’ll tie you to the mast in a ripped up dress. So sexy.”

“I love you, Jack,” said Katherine, kissing his palm.

“I love you more, Kath,” he said, moving closer and kissing her neck. “I love you so much.” He nuzzled her, resting his head on her shoulder. “Stay with me forever?” he asked, putting his hand on her thigh.

Katherine rubbed the fingers of the hand in the cast. “Only if you stay with me forever.” 

“I can do that. I can definitely do that.” Jack lifted his face to hers and lunch was temporarily forgotten.

What was this? Jack wondered to himself, walking back to his apartment. His. Well, kind of. Close enough. He knew what he wasn’t. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t hungry. Well, most of the time. Close enough. So what was he? Not happy, exactly, he thought. He did lose a fucking eye. He was what. Not rich, that’s for sure, but he felt for the five in his pocket. Nice. He stopped and looked at his reflection in a store window. Tough guy. Close enough. He grinned at himself. Yeah, real tough guy math tutor. He shook his head. He was what? There’s a word for it, dumbass. Keep thinking.

Jack woke up in the early morning. Hopeful. That was it. He rolled over and went back to sleep as the sun rose.


End file.
